"Let's hope for luck," was all that he could say.
"Sister Blanche has communicated with your uncle ... perhaps he can come ... he has phoned..." She could not continue.
"Let me see the paper."
"Yes ... yes ... I sent you some carnations. Haven't they come? A boy promised to deliver them ... he..."
"One of the Sisters is fixing them."
"The paper?"
"Yes..."
He reached out for it and then pain slapped him, a rough spasm, cramping his fingers, shutting off his speech: staring at Jeannette, he waited, hoping he could make it back.
Sensing his anguish and bewilderment, she spoke lovingly, bent over him, kissed his bearded face.
"It'll go away ... it will go away ... be patient ... dear, Orv ... patience ... Orv ... lie back against your pillow ... patience..."