She was ashamed before him. She desired to call out, to sing, laugh, only to drown the noise of that whispering which assailed her ear like the wave of a fiery sea.
But no, he heard nothing.
His sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. He was busied with his breathing. His chest heaved and fell like a defective machine.
He didn't even expect her to read to him now. She went up to the bed and asked, listening with every nerve: "Do you want to sleep, Nathaniel?"
He lowered his eyelids in assent.
"Yes—read," he breathed.
"Shall I read softly?"
Again he assented.
"But read—don't sleep."
Fear flickered in his eyes.