"He is quite quiet," she said, whispering.
"Does he suffer?"
"I think not; he never complains. When he is awake he will sit with my hand within his own, and now and again there is a little pressure."
"And he says nothing?"
"Very little; hardly a word now and then. When he does speak, it is of his food."
"He can eat, then?"
"A morsel of jelly, or a little soup. But, Anton, I must tell you — I tell you everything, you know — where do you think the things that he takes have come from? But perhaps you know."
"Indeed I do not."
"They were sent to me by Rebecca Loth."
"By Rebecca!"