She was back in the cubicle, and she lay down on the couch and cried, and the nurse brought her whisky in a paper cup and set it on the edge of the wash-basin.

‘God has given me blood to drink,’ she said to the nurse, and the nurse said, ‘Don’t rinse your mouth or it won’t clot.’

After a long time the nurse came back and said to her from the doorway, smiling, ‘I see you’re awake again.’

‘Why?’ she said.

‘You’ve been asleep,’ the nurse said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

She sat up; she was dizzy and it seemed that she had been in the cubicle all her life.

‘Do you want to come along now?’ the nurse said, all kindness again. She held out the same arm, strong enough to guide any wavering footstep; this time they went back through the long corridor to where the nurse sat behind the bank window.

‘All through?’ this nurse said brightly. ‘Sit down a minute, then.’ She indicated a chair next to the glass window, and turned away to write busily. ‘Do not rinse your mouth for two hours,’ she said, without turning around. ‘Take a laxative tonight, take two aspirin if there is any pain. If there is much pain or excessive bleeding, notify this office at once. All right?’ she said, and smiled brightly again.

There was a new little slip of paper; this one said, ‘Extraction,’ and underneath, ‘Do not rinse mouth. Take mild laxative. Two aspirin for pain. If pain is excessive or any hemorrhage occurs, notify office.’

‘Good-bye,’ the nurse said pleasantly.

‘Good-bye,’ she said.