"Not that I know of."
"Tell Ricky?"
"No."
"How is she?"
"All cured—we hope."
His pale eyes fixed on me. "Let me have another look at the throat."
He had another look—rearranging lights.
"I did a little reading on it, Phil. I can't say for sure what it is."
"I'm going on the assumption that it is—what-for."
"Yes. You would. Most people would take the opposite attitude—until the last possible fraction of the last possible second."