The specialist had arrived by this time, and Paton left the brother and sister together. Claudia tried to comfort him as she would have a child.
“I don’t mean to be heartless,” blubbered Jack, his face working pitiably, “only you don’t know how I feel.... I do love her.... I’m sorry I was so cross about the pendant. She put it on for luck.... Oh, God!”
It struck Claudia what a ridiculously immature couple Fay and Jack were. They were small ships that should have kept near shore, and now Destiny had blown them suddenly out to sea. And she herself was tacking about in the wind, blown this way and that, and finding no place where she might safely anchor. Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew Frank Hamilton was no permanent anchorage for any woman. Surely, the children of Circe were not the luckiest of mortals!
It seemed ages before Paton came back to them. Jack was drinking himself into a fuddled state, and Claudia was too anxious herself to keep watch over him. Afterwards she realized that she could have written an inventory of that commonplace room.
His face told them that he had no good news before he spoke.
“Tell us the worst,” said Jack thickly, “always better to know everything.”
“The medical verdict is paraphlegia. Fatal injury to the nerves at the base of the spine.... She’s coming round now. She can’t feel any pain, that’s one blessing, poor child.”
“That means—she is paralysed?” whispered Claudia.
“From the waist downwards ... she may live for some time. I think, Claudia, it would be kind of you to go to her. The strange nurse might frighten her. I don’t think we ought—to tell her there’s no hope. The doctor says it is always better in such cases to let the patient think she will recover. Keeps the mind from dwelling on the inevitable. You understand, Jack?”
Jack nodded, and then dropping his head on his hands, commenced to cry.