At midnight that night the doctors made a thorough examination.
When they came out they were smiling.
"He is doing very well," the younger one said--he was hairy and
dark, but he was beautiful to me. "He is entirely conscious now,
and in about an hour you can send the nurse off for a little
sleep. Don't let him talk."
And so at last I went through the familiar door into an
unfamiliar room, with basins and towels and bottles around, and a
screen made of Jim's largest canvases. And someone on the
improvised bed turned and looked at me. He did not speak, and I
sat down beside him. After a while he put his hand over mine as
it lay on the bed.
"You are much better to me than I deserve," he said softly. And
because his eyes were disconcerting, I put an ice cloth over
them.
"Much better than you deserve," I said, and patted the ice cloth
to place gently. He fumbled around until he found my hand again,
and we were quiet for a long time. I think he dozed, for he
roused suddenly and pulled the cloth from his eyes.
"The--the day is all confused," he said, turning to look at me,
"but--one thing seems to stand out from everything else. Perhaps
it was delirium, but I seemed to see that door over there open,
and you, outside, with--with Max. His arms were around you."
"It was delirium," I said softly.
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