At the Horinger's surgery.

"That's my girl." Patrick approached the bed with gladness betraying a strain.

"Is it over?" Shelagh was weary and afraid.

"All done." Shelagh tried to get up.

"Oh, no sitting up. Matron's orders. And I am telling you, she is an absolute Tartar."

"Did you see Mr. Horinger?"

"Have a bit of more sleep. We can talk later. "There was a silence. Shelagh was struggling, he could see. He had a lump in his throat.

"No. Tell me now."

He was still hesitant.

"Patrick. Please."

"I think I am inclined to ignore the Matron's orders. I want to hold you now."

Shelagh started to cry. He sat by her on the other side of the bed and pulled her a little up to lean unto him.

"Does this hurt? How is your wound?"

"It does hurt, but it's not the wound. Please, tell me."

"There is scar tissue throughout the pelvic organs. It seems that the tuberculosis was not only in your lungs."

Shelagh pressed his arm desperately.

"Is he sure?"

"There will be a biopsy. But it can only prove what we already know."

Shelagh's sobbing continued. "I know. There is no hope."

Patrick kissed her hair. "Shelagh….!"

"I am so sorry!"

"Don't say that! Think of how many dreams came true."

"Not just all of them."

She kept crying. He kept muttering to her quietly: "There now. My poor girl. "

Once she asked: "What if the tartar Matron comes in? We should not be seen like this."

"Oh, to heck with the Matron. I will use my authority as a Doctor and stare her down. I will defend our family. "

"Oh, Patrick."