"The sunlamps, sir. They're getting brighter."
"I can see where they are." The older man's voice was shaky. He looked toward Murdoch. "I can't see you, though."
"It'll come back gradually, sir. Why don't you have breakfast now?"
Waverill told him what to do with breakfast. "I want to stay out here. How bright is it now? Is it like full daylight yet?"
"No, sir. It'll be a while yet. You'll be able to feel it on your skin." Murdoch was clammy with the fear that the other's sight would improve too fast. He looked around for some sharp corner, some twig he could maneuver the man into. He didn't see anything.
"What's that sweet smell?" Waverill wanted to know.
"Flowers, sir. There's a blossoming hedge around the walkways."
"I'll be able to see flowers again. I'll...." The older man caught himself as if ashamed. "Tell me what this place looks like."
Murdoch described the grounds, meanwhile guiding Waverill slowly around the curved path. Somewhere, he thought, there'll be something sharp I can bump him into. He had a wild thought of running the man into a wall; but a bloody nose would be too obvious.
"I can feel the warmth now," Waverill said, "and I can tell that they're brighter." He was swiveling his head and squinting, experimenting with his new traces of vision.