He tells her. The young fellow who had fetched the milk before had broken a blood-vessel on awakening early that morning and been carried up to the hospital.
“What’s your name?”
“Oskar.”
“Oskar what?”
“Oskar Heine.”
“And you are in Compound Three?”
“Yes.”
Mona gazes at him in silence for a moment, and then recovering herself, she says:
“Yes, that’s yours.”