Eyes closed he felt that they had never parted: he knew that Suzanne--was that the woman’s name?--was a lie: war could not take Jean away now: they would be okay together: maybe they would visit Paris, maybe they would ... As Jean sat on a chair by his bed, silent, hands in her lap, tears in her eyes, he slept, and, for a while, sagging to one side in her chair, she slept. Sister Blanche woke her, smiling her wrinkled smile, her eyes alight, her cornet in perfect angle. "He needs to sleep," she said, bending over both of them. "Yes," Jean whispered. "Are you his nurse?" "I’m Sister Blanche." "You sent me the telegram! Yes, of course, of course. I’m Jeannette Hitchcock. He’s my ... Orville is mine. I guess you know. I guess my letters told you." She wanted to shed her shyness and hug her. "I’m so glad you are here. Now, now we’ll see. He’ll get on his feet again." What a quaint pronunciation: was Jean Canadian, from Quebec? It must be so. Jean was standing, ready to leave. "Won’t you come outside, so we won’t disturb him?" "Yes, we should go out." In the hall, Sister Blanche grasped Jeannette’s hand and then put her arms around her. Youth, it’s such a wondrous thing! "Is his head injury serious?" Jeannette asked. "I didn’t know ... tell me about him..." "His head injury isn’t serious ... multiple lacerations, bruises ... we will be removing the bandages in a few days." "Did gangrene get into his arm?" "Yes ... gangrene made the amputation more complex. Of course Dr. Phelan, our head surgeon, tried to save his arm ... all of us tried ... there wasn’t a chance." "No chance at all," she repeated. "None at all." "I’m afraid he’ll take it hard." The hallway of the hospital seemed very cold. "Of course he’ll take it hard, but he has fight in him ... he’ll win out ... now he has you, my dear." "It’s not as simple as that." "Not many things are simple in life. But with rest, with love ... and now you, you must get some rest. Go to bed. You can’t rest sitting in a chair. You can phone me at any time. Let me give you our number--my extension. You should stay at the Racine Hotel ... the Nazis have cleared out of town, I am told. Let me phone the hotel for you ... come, my dear, I must jot down my number ... come..." Jeannette thought it was a long way to the hotel: her overnight bag was light but the blocks added up when she followed Rue Carot by mistake; she had been told to follow the Rue Carrefour ... in minutes she registered and unpacked in a second floor room; in minutes she was sound asleep, to wake in an hour or so, refreshed.