Now you got for he down.' She held Meg's shoulders, and Meg allowed herself to be pushed flat on the bed. 'But he's a sailor,' she said. 'You must know that, Madge.' 'Well,' Madge said. 'He got for be a sailor.' Oh, my God, Meg thought. Oh, my God. She closed her eyes, because she could feel the tears start. How to explain it? Alan had been killed in the jungles of Cuba, fighting the Spaniards. No, he had not been killed. The colonel had asked her questions, about his name and his whereabouts. She had assumed that he must have been killed, because she had heard no word. In all the time she had been in prison, in all the months she had spent in the American hospital, she had heard no word. If Alan had been alive, he would have come looking for her, surely. But Madge said he was coming looking for her now, and thus she was to be confined here in darkness, unable to communicate with him, until he was gone again. Well, they would see about that. They ... her door opened, and she sat up again violently.
