Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. Then he remembered that she was Anna’s sister. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Perhaps for the first time he realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep.
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