"How is that?"
The sick man tossed his head on his pillow.
"Oh, you know I wanted to sell the general rifles. Well ... I helped him capture all he can use ... ruined my own sale." The salesman laughed a little, but he was not amused.
The girl did not smile.
"Has your trade really fallen through, after all you've done?"
"Sure! A sale can slip away from you just so easy." He stared at the ceiling, with hollow, troubled eyes.
With a faint, tender smile, the girl looked at her patient.
"Tell me, Tomas: why do you place such great stress on selling, selling, selling?"
He looked at her, weakly surprised.