Then she began again, quietly and decisively.
"Your mother isn't well," she said. "No ... just listen quietly. What
is going to happen tomorrow? I'm speaking to _you_, Laurie to _you_.
Do you understand?"
"I'm all right," he said dully.
She disregarded it.
"I want to help you, Laurie. You know that, don't you? I'm Maggie
Deronnais. You remember?"
"Yes--Maggie Deronnais," said the boy, staring at the fire.
"Yes, I'm Maggie. You trust me, don't you, Laurie? You can believe
what I say? Well, I want you to fight too. You and I together. Will
you let me do what I can?"
Again the eyes rose, with that odd questioning look. Maggie thought
she perceived something else there too. She gathered her forces
quietly in silence an instant or two, feeling her heart quicken like
the pulse of a moving engine. Then she sprang to her feet.
"Listen, then--in the name of Jesus of Nazareth--"
He recoiled violently with a movement so fierce that the words died on
her lips. For one moment she thought he was going to spring. And again
he was on his feet, snarling. There was silence for an interminable
instant; then a stream of words, scorching and ferocious, snarled at
her like the furious growling of a dog--a string of blasphemies and
filth.
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