I felt a slow heat in my cheeks:
"I have nothing on my mind, sir, save desire to return to duty."
He said in his kindly way: "You would mend more quickly, sir, if your mind were tranquil."
I felt my face flush to my hair:
"Why do you suppose that my mind is uneasy, Doctor?"
"You have asked no questions. A sick man, when recovering, asks many. You seem to remain incurious, indifferent. Yet, you are in the house of old friends."
He looked at me out of his kind, grave eyes: "Also," he said, "you had many days of fever."
My face burned: I feared to guess what he meant, but now I must ask.
"Did I babble?"
"A feverish patient often becomes loquacious."