“Tuesday.”
“What month, Nurse?”
“It’s Tuesday the twenty-fourth of June.”
“Midsummer day?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Now you mustn’t ask a lot of questions, but I’ll tell you this—both you and your friend—”
“My cousin,” corrected Alan.
“Well, you and your cousin have been very ill. You were brought here four weeks ago and at first we despaired of your lives. You are both much better now, and we hope to have you up very soon. Now don’t talk any more—”
“Nurse,” he pleaded. “Just one more question.” He pondered a minute. “It was June at Marshfielden when—Why it must be 1915!” he finished quickly, Nurse Wylton frowned. Was this a new form of delirium?
“Now don’t ask questions—”
“Nurse, Nurse—I must know! We’ve been away a long time. If this is June, then it must be 1915.”