The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. It never has had. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. The poor things! Oh, it was quite dreadful. ” “Yes, shit. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room.
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