These thoughts were going through my head to the accompaniment of a subdued but steady babble of talk from what seemed to me an interminable distance, for I had lost an awful lot of blood, and there was a humming in my ears which seemed to put other sounds way beyond. I was drowsy, too, and horribly thirsty; and all that I wanted was a long drink of water and to be allowed to sleep. I was almost sorry I had come there, since there had to be so much palaver; and then something tickled the palm of my hand. I thought it was a fly, and wriggled my fingers; but the tickling increased, and I looked down and saw a thin stream of bright red blood crawling like a wicked little snake from under the rim of the bandage. I slapped my arm—and it was wet through.
Thought I, "Here I am, bleeding to death while those women talk and talk and talk!" It would be a mean trick on Rosalie to bleed to death in her house, and I was just going to call out when the curtains parted and there came into the room the sweetest little lady, with those clear, wonderful eyes that make you feel about six years old and glad that you are still a child. Her face was very smooth, with wonderfully few wrinkles, her cheeks were a delicate pink, and her hair as silvery white as moonlight on the snow.
I couldn't see her very clearly, nor was I quite sure that she was real, as it seemed to me I'd already noticed two or three people come through those curtains—and one I thought was Tante Fi-Fi, until she smiled at me and disappeared. Besides, I'd pictured Sœur Anne Marie as big, and full of that
