“If I may.”
“Oh yes, you may go now. He’s getting on too: picking up strength. Don’t let him talk too much, and don’t mention a word about that report of Roby’s.”
“Certainly not,” said Dickenson; and the doctor passing on, the young officer entered the next hut, to find his friend looking hollow-eyed and pulled down, the nerves at the corners of his eyes twitching as he slept.
Dickenson sat down upon a box watching him, and it was as if his presence there acted upon the patient, who, at the end of a few minutes, opened his eyes and smiled.
“How strange!” he said, holding out his hand.
“What’s strange?”
“I was dreaming about you. How long have you been there?”
“Five or ten minutes.”
“How are things going on?”
“Pretty quiet.”