When she wakened again all fear had gone; she was conscious of a burning corkscrew boring into her body somewhere, but she was too lazy to localize it. A long, long time after that she saw sunshine and smelt something very beautiful.
She focussed her eyes on something that swayed drunkenly: after awhile it stood still, and she saw that it was a little blue vase filled with boronia. The breeze from the open window was tapping the blind softly to and fro, and wafting the scent of the boronia over her face. Then she saw Louis's face, very white, above her.
"All right, old girl?" he whispered.
She tried to find her hand to raise it to him, but it seemed so far from her that she would have to go to the end of the world to fetch it. And that was too far. So she smiled at him.
"You're all right, you see," he said nervously. "Gloomy forebodings are so silly, aren't they?"
"I—thought I should feel it," she said.
"I told you you wouldn't, didn't I? The nurse said you took an awful time to go under—"
"Yes. I wanted to explain something. And I wanted to help the surgeons—I thought I'd—do it—much better than they could."
"Just like you, old lady," he said, with his eyes wet.
"Silly to fight, Louis—strong things—wise things—like those surgeons—even if they are making awful pains for you to bear—"