"Yes! in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown,
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
We mortal millions live alone."
- Matthew Arnold -
Sunday morning, 9:13 a.m.
Day eight
Charles made his way down the hospital's corridor with geraniums from his hothouse. He moved to within a few doors of the room where the American woman was. He'd had his chance and didn't know it until it was too late.
The hissing sound in his ear pulled him aside into the shadow of another room's doorway. "Can you not see the room is guarded?"
"Yes!"
"Well? What are you going to do about it?"
"All I can do: keep walking as if I am visiting someone else."
"Fool!"
The man shoved off from the doorway, just as it opened, and an old woman stuck her head out. With his head lowered, Charles
