‘Sister Agnes?’ said Collis.

The nun half turned, but didn’t look at him directly.

‘I just wanted to say thank you, Sister Agnes,’ Collis told her, trying to convey everything he felt for her in a few simple words. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. Whatever he said, she had her own inner voice that was far more convincing than anything he could ever tell her. She stood there for a moment, still keeping her eyes averted, and then she gave a tiny nod to show that she had heard, before walking quickly along the ward and out through the door.

Collis sat down by Hannah’s bed. He hardly knew what to say to her. She looked as if she had aged fifteen years in five days, and her profile was cut as sharp as white onyx. Her very cheekbones seemed to be translucent, and her blonde hair seemed to have been drained of its pigment by some strange effect of her disease, leaving it as dry and silvery as moonlight.

‘I never believed this kind of thing could happen,’ Collis said. ‘I said a prayer for you in the cathedral on my way back here. It’s like magic.’

Hannah turned to him. Her smile was wan but warm. She reached out for his hand with hers, and he took it again, and pressed his lips to it.

‘God isn’t magic, Collis,’ she whispered. ‘He must have a purpose in saving me. Perhaps He wanted me to know real happiness with you.’

‘I don’t know what His purpose is. I don’t really care. I’m just overwhelmed that He spared you.’

They were silent for a time, and then Hannah said, ‘You must go on without me, you know. To San Francisco. Sister Agnes told me the California is here, and that you went down to book your passage on her.’

‘That was before I knew you were going to be well,’ said Collis. ‘My God, Hannah, that was when I thought that I was going to be burying you by Sunday.’

‘I know. But you must still go.’

‘I won’t hear of it,’ Collis told her. ‘I want to stay here until you get your strength back. From now on, I’m not going to leave you.’

She weakly shook her head. ‘Collis, you’ll have to. I have so much to work out in my mind before we can think of staying together.’

‘What do you have to work out? Do you love me, or don’t you?’

She smiled. ‘I believe I do.’

‘Then that’s all you have to think about.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s much more. I can’t just arrive in San Francisco and tell Walter our marriage is over, and that I want to live with you. I have to prepare the ground properly, in a decent manner.’