“What day?”
“Saturday.”
“When—” I hesitated. I was afraid.
“Well?” he asked, quietly.
“When was I hurt? Many days ago—many weeks?”
“You were hurt at half-past three this afternoon.”
I tried to comprehend; I could not, and after a while I gave up my feeble grasp on time.
“What is that roaring sound?” I asked. “Not drums? Not my lions?”
“It is the sea.”
“So near?”