Norry walked into the room and stood quietly looking at him.
"Get me a drink, Norry, please," Hugh begged.
"I'm parched." He rolled over. "Ouch! God, how my head aches!"
Norry brought him the drink, but nothing less than three glasses even began to satisfy Hugh. Then, still saying nothing, Norry put a cold compress on Hugh's hot forehead.
"Thanks, Norry old man. That's awfully damn good of you."
Norry walked out of the room, and Hugh quickly fell into a light sleep. An hour later he woke up, quite unaware of the fact that Norry had changed the cold compress three times. The nap had refreshed him. He still felt weak and faint; but his head no longer throbbed, and his throat was less dry.
"Norry," he called feebly.
"Yes?" Norry stood in the doorway. "Feeling better?"
"Yes, some. Come sit down on the bed. I want to talk to you. But get me another drink first, please. My mouth tastes like burnt rubber."
Norry gave him the drink and then sat down on the edge of the bed, silently waiting.