She came over to the bed and placed a hand on Chick's forehead. Again she smiled, and nodded.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
Now this is a strange thing; Watson could not account for it. For, although she did not speak English, yet he could understand her quite well. At the moment it seemed perfectly obvious; afterward, the fact became amazing.
He answered in the same way, his thoughts directing his lips. And he found that as long as he made no conscious attempt to select the words for his thought, he could speak unhesitatingly.
“Where am I?”
She smiled indulgently, but did not answer.
“Is this the—Blind Spot?”
“The Blind Spot! I do not understand.”
“Who are you?”
“Your nurse. Perhaps,” soothingly, “you would like to talk to the Rhamda.”