She was completely
cut off, and unable to communicate with the rest of the world, isolated
alone with her body.
Hours and hours would pass thus, without getting any further through the
morning, or again a few minutes would lead from broad daylight to the
depths of the night. One evening when the room appeared very dim, either
because it was evening or because the blinds were drawn, Helen said to
her, "Some one is going to sit here to-night. You won't mind?"
Opening her eyes, Rachel saw not only Helen but a nurse in spectacles,
whose face vaguely recalled something that she had once seen. She had
seen her in the chapel. "Nurse McInnis," said Helen, and the nurse
smiled steadily as they all did, and said that she did not find many
people who were frightened of her. After waiting for a moment they both
disappeared, and having turned on her pillow Rachel woke to find herself
in the midst of one of those interminable nights which do not end at
twelve, but go on into the double figures--thirteen, fourteen, and so
on until they reach the twenties, and then the thirties, and then the
forties. She realised that there is nothing to prevent nights from doing
this if they choose. At a great distance an elderly woman sat with her
head bent down; Rachel raised herself slightly and saw with dismay that
she was playing cards by the light of a candle which stood in the hollow
of a newspaper.
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