(Sobs from the ward.)
Dr. Thorne (tremulously). My patients! Isn’t there one of you who knows me? Doesn’t anybody hear me? Don’t cry so! All the symptoms will be worse for it.
The dying patient. Doctor? Doctor?
Dr. Thorne. That sounds like Norah.
Priest (recites behind the screen at Norah’s bedside the prayer for the passing soul). “Proficiscere, anima Christiana, de hoc mundo, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, qui te creavit; in nomine Jesu Christi Filii Dei vivi, qui pro te passus est; in nomine Spiritus Sancti”—
Dr. Thorne (softly). Thank you, Father. (Stands silently with bowed head.)
Reënter the patient in the wheeled chair.
Jessie (happily). I’ve had such a lovely dream! I thought Dr. Thorne was here—in this ward. Oh! (With disappointment.)
Dr. Thorne. Jessie!
Jessie (sadly). It was such a lovely dream! (Droops and turns away.)