Primrose squeezed Tollers' fingers. He told her not to worry about Will, but she couldn't help it. He still hadn't stirred, and she noticed that his wrist was beginning to look swollen.
"I have to worry. Will's hurt. Look at his wrist. And he's not woken up yet." Primrose's lip began to quiver. "And if he's hurt badly, I'll never forgive myself. I ought never to have gone up that fool ladder in the first place. This is my fault."
A single tear escaped her, and she took Will's good hand in her free one. "I'm sorry, Will," she whispered.
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