“I saw her,” he whispered. “I saw mine Freda when the stone swung. She lay there⁠—just at my feet. I picked her up and I saw that mine Freda was dead. But I hoped⁠—and I thought maybe mine Helma was somewhere here, too, So I ran with mine yndling ⁠—here⁠—” His voice broke. “I thought maybe she was not dead,” he went on. “And I saw that”⁠—he pointed to the Moon Pool⁠—“and I thought I would bathe her face and she might live again. And when I dipped my hands within⁠—the life left them, and cold, deadly cold, ran up through them into my heart. And mine Freda⁠—she fell⁠—” he covered his eyes, and dropping his head on O’Keefe’s shoulder, stood, racked by sobs that seemed to tear at his very soul.