His face had the
blood-drained look which many will remember, yet was still fine in
its strong, boyish lines. The down on his upper lip was scarcely
more deeply defined than his straight eyebrows. A negro attendant
sat near fanning him, and Miss Lou first thought that he was asleep.
As she approached with the surgeon he opened his eyes with the dazed
expression so common when the brain is enfeebled from loss of blood.
At first they seemed almost opaque and dead in their blackness, but,
as if a light were approaching from within, they grew bright and
laughing. His smile showed his white, even teeth slightly, and her
look of deep commiseration passed into one of wonder as she saw his
face growing positively radiant with what seemed to her a strange
kind of happiness, as he glanced back and forth from her to the
surgeon. Feebly he raised his finger to his lips as if to say, "I
can't speak."
"That's right, Waldo; don't try to talk yet. This is Miss Baron. She
will be one of your nurses and will feed you with the best of soup.
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