That frizzled head, those great eyes, yellow-white, that had on first behold so frightened me -- quite kindly they seemed now. And his gentle madness, it plucked at my heart.
"Five minutes yet," Max pled, rising. "I call for a wheelchair and fetch this boy to the Infirmary."
But I insisted I could manage. "I'm going to stand up and walk."
"Nah, Bill!" He made to stay me, but I gestured him off and swung half-around to sit on the table-edge, my legs hanging over. They pained sharply -- not from their first deforming nor yet from Redfearn's Tommy's charge, but from the course of fresh blood that began to wake them. When I slipped myself off they buckled, and I was obliged to grasp the table for support.
"Too much at once," Max protested. "A little time yet!"
But I could not bear resorting to my old lope. For all the shocks that ran from hip to toe, I could flex the muscles once again, and was determined they must bear my weight from that hour on.
"Give me a hand, George."
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