In silence Julie handed him a glass of orange juice, and he boosted himself forward to drink it.
"How's your ... your back?" she asked tentatively. "Is it better?"
Marc returned the glass to her, tried a few movements involving his mummified spine. There was no definite pain, only a suggestion of stiffness.
"Brand new," he said, and smiled.
"Oh, I'm so relieved!" Julie breathed. She sat down close beside him on the bed. "I'm sorry, Marc."
For a moment they only looked at each other. Then, suddenly breaking into laughter, they fell into each other's arms.
"Oh, Marc!" Julie cried. "I haven't been so happy in months. I don't know why. Nothing's changed; everything's in the same old mess, and considering what I did to you last night I ought to feel just awful. But I don't, and I just can't explain it."
"Maybe I can," Marc said slowly. "I think ... just before I fell asleep last night ... I think something very important occurred to me. I think...!"
Suddenly his voice degenerated into a thin wheeze as the air rushed out of his lungs. He looked as though nothing of even minor importance had passed through his mind from the day of his birth. Julie looked up at him with anxious surprise.
"What is it, dear?" she asked. "What's wrong?"