As the morning light began to turn the windows into grey rectangles Mary stopped to ask if I still needed the mirror on the chair that had reflected light into the sickroom all the night long. "I'm afraid it's at hazard every time we bring you another brick," she said. "That poor lad is reeling with exhaustion."
"I can see now," I assured her, taking her into my arms and breathing deep of the scent of her hair. "Have you had any sleep, my love?"
"I haven't dared," she answered, clinging to me with sudden urgency. "I nearly lost you."