The nurse soon after entered.
"So the doctor's gone," she said.
Obviously it wasn't necessary to say Yes, since the room was empty save for me and her; so I made no reply.
She went to the window and looked out. The sky was blue and the sunshine was brilliant.
"It's a fine day," she said.
No, I thought, you don't catch me there; and said nothing. But I reflected that yesterday I might myself have made the same inane remark as she.
"Would you like the paper?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, and then almost regretted it, for having waited nearly fifty years for yesterday's news surely I could wait longer. Still, the paper would help to pass the time.
While she was fetching it I remembered a dream of last night which I had intended to tell her this morning.
But why do so? A dream is of no account even to the dreamer. Still, the recital might have made her laugh. But why should laughter be bothered about?