"Perhaps your nerves are a little overstrained," Tom said, his voice very kind. "A mild sedative might help."
Without a word the doctor went from the room.
Tom switched off the light and moved to the edge of the bed. "Ann..." he whispered. "Ann..."
Even under sedation, she heard his voice. The smile that came over her face seemed to light the whole room.
I went outside and closed the door and stood guard over it. They had some things to talk about which didn't need my presence, or they would have some things to talk about as soon as Ann regained consciousness and found that her dream was true.
In time the world of tomorrow would have something to talk about too, a secret that some scientist of the long-gone time almost found, and hid in a painting in the hope that in some future day some unborn genius would discover his secret again, and perfect it, and give it to the world. Awe was in me, at the wonders of the world in which I lived, and gratitude, that such men as Tom Calhoun inhabited it.