But, I wondered, would it damage her more to move her?I didn't know.Maybe, I reasoned, I should check her for more injury before I attempt to move her... There may be broken bones that I wasn't aware of.Leaning back to her, I squeezed up and down both of her limp arms and then her upper legs, over the soft material of her skirt, avoiding contact with her bloodied, injured knee. I then placed my left hand over her lower chest, below her right breast to feel her ribs there. I couldn't detect any. "Sit!" she said again. When the young black maid appeared, she said, "Have one of the boys go cut me some switches, althea will do. Long ones."Anne ran from the dining room and galloped up the stairs, skirts flying, her heart beating rapidly, bile in her mouth, refusing to cry, not sure whether she was furious or frightened.At two that afternoon, wearing her ice-blue gown with an edge of ruffled lace across her freckled chest and a pair of antique combs in her unruly red hair, Anne Conroy. More

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