not a thing done to his shoulder. Neski had broken ribs and internal injury, probably not dangerous, he said.
"I'm glad," exclaimed Joan Daisy. "What about you?"
"Are you ready to go?" he asked her.
"I? What do you mean?"
"I've a cab at the door," he said, in his quiet, stubborn way. "I'm taking you home."
"Not you!" she cried and, seeing him flush hot, she realized that he mistook her objection. "You've got to have yourself attended to," she explained.
"I will," he promised, "afterwards."
"Now!" she insisted and suddenly, before she knew what she did, she pleaded, "Please, won't you?"
"No," he refused. "Collar bone's broken; nothing much more. People play football with that."
"They don't!"
"Several have," he replied, unanswerably, and she told him, with all the positiveness she could muster, "I'll not leave this place till you're attended to."
"I'll not be attended to until you're home," he replied, and she felt her positiveness no match for his. Moreover, the nurse aided him, saying, "A bit more of a ride, if he's careful, shouldn't matter." And he asked Joan Daisy, "Will you pour me some tea?"
Her hand holding the little pot trembled for her thinking of the hotel room, which she had shared with Mrs. Hoswick and in which she had offered him a cup of coffee, and he had refused it from her. Then there was the automat where she had finished for him the purchase of his beef pie and where she had transferred her dishes to his table, only to see him walk out. So, after starting to pour, her hand became untrustworthy, and she put down the pot.
