She thought about that for some moments, frowning.
“Then you know who I am?” she said at last.
“Your name is Anona Freedlander,” I said. “And you live in San Francisco.”
“Do I? I don’t remember that. Are you sure?”
I was eyeing her arm. It was riddled with tiny scars. They had kept her drugged for a long time. She was more or less drugged now.
“Yes, I’m sure. Can you get out of bed?”
“I don’t think I want to,” she said. “I think I would rather go to sleep.”
“That’s all right,” I told her. “You go to sleep. We’re not ready to leave just yet. In a little while: after you’ve had your sleep, we’ll go.”
“I haven’t any clothes, or did I tell you that? I haven’t anything on now. I threw my nightdress into the bath. The nurse was very angry.”
“You don’t have to bother about anything. I’ll do the bothering. I’ll find you something to wear when we’re ready to go.”