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r patients； even patients who only had seventeen cents in their purses…or would have； had they had purses…when they were admitted。
She thought about the past sometimes； remembered it； reviewed it； the little there was of it But it brought shadows into the room； dimmed its bright corners； it thinned even the thick girder…like shafts of sunlight ing through the window； it made her want the covers closer up around her shoulders； so she learned to avoid thinking of it； summoning it up。
She thought。
I was on a train。 I was closeted in the washroom with another girl。 She could remember the metallic sheen of the fixtures and the mirrors。 She could see the other girl's face； three dimples in triangular arrangement； one on each cheek； one at the chin。 She could even feel the shaking and vibration； the slight unsteadiness of footing； again； if she tried hard enough。 But it made her slightly nauseated to do so； because she knew what was ing next； in a very few seconds。 She knew now； but she hadn't known then。 She usually snapped off the sensory image； as if it were a lightswitch； in a hurry at this point； to forestall what was surely ing next。
She remembered New York。 She remembered the door that wouldn't open。 She remembered the strip of one…way tickets falling out of an envelope。 That was when the shadows really formed around； good and heavy。 That was when the temperature of the room really went down。 When she went back behind the train…trip； to remember New York； on the other side of it。
She quickly shut her eyes and turned her head aside on the pillow； and shut the past out。 。 。 。
The present was kinder by far。 And you could have it so easy； any given moment of the day。 You could have it without trying at all。 Stay in the present； let the present do。 The present was safe。 Don't stray out of it…not in either direction； forward or backward。 Because there was only darkness； way out there all around it； and you didn't know what you'd find。 Sit tight； lie tight； right where you were。
She opened her eyes and warmed to it again。 The sunlight ing in； thick and warm and strong enough to carry the weight of a toboggan from the window…sill to the floor。 The technicolored burst of flowers； the beribboned basket of fruit。 The soothing quiet all around。 They'd bring the little form in pretty soon； and let it nestle against her； and she'd know that happiness that was something new； that made you want to circle your arms and never let go。
Let the present do。 Let the present last。 Don't ask； don't seek； don't question； don't quarrel with it。 Hang onto it for all you were worth。
7
It was really the flowers that were her undoing； that brought the present to an end。
She wanted one of them one day。 Wanted to separate one from the rest； and hold it in her hand； and smell its sweetness directly under her nose； it wasn't enough any longer just to enjoy them visually； to look at them in the abstract； in group…formation。
They'd been moved nearer by this time。 And she herself could move now more freely。 She'd been lying quietly on her side admiring them for some time when the impulse formed。
There was a small one； dangling low； arching over in her direction； and she thought she'd get that。 She turned more fully； so that she was pletely sideward； and reached out toward it。 。 。 。
Her hand closed on its stalk； and it quivered delicately with the pressure。 She knew she wouldn't have been able to break the stalk off short just with one hand alone； and she didn't want to do that anyway； didn't want to damage the flower； just borrow it for awhile。 So she started to withdraw the stalk vertically from the receptacle； and as it paid off and seemed never to e to an end； this swept her hand high upward and at last back over her own head。
It struck the bed…back； that part that was so close to her that she could never have seen it without making a plete head…turn； and something up there jiggled and quivered a little； as if threatening to detach itself and e down。
She made the plete head…turn； and even withdrew out from it a little； into a half…sitting position； something she had never attempted before； to bring it into focus。
It was a featherweight metal frame； a rectangle； clasped to the top bar of the bed； loose on its other three sides。 Within was held a smooth mat of paper； with fine neat writing on it that blurred until it had stopped the slight swaying that her impact had set in motion。
It had been inches from her head； just over her head； all this time； but she'd never seen it until now。
Her chart。
She peered at it intently。
Suddenly the present and all its safety exploded into fragments； and the flower fell from her extended hand onto the floor。
There were three lines at the top； in neat symmetry。 The first part of each was printed and left inplete； the rest was finished out in typescript。
It said at the top： 〃Section…〃
And then it said： 〃Maternity。〃
It said below that： 〃Room…〃
And then it said： 〃25。〃
It said at the bottom： 〃Patient's Name…〃
And then it said： 〃Hazzard； Patrice （Mrs。）。〃
8
The nurse opened the door； and her face changed。 The smile died off on it。 You could detect the change in her face from all the way over there； even before she'd e any closer to the bed。
She came over and took her patient's temperature。 Then she straightened the chart。
Neither of them said anything。
There was fear in the room。 There was shadow in the room。 The present was no longer in the room。 The future had taken its place。 Bringing fear； bringing shadow； bringing strangeness； worse than even the past could have brought。
The nurse held the thermometer toward the light and scanned it。 Then her brows deepened。 She put the thermometer down。
She asked the question carefully； as though she had gauged its tone and its tempo before allowing herself to ask it。 She said； 〃What happened？ Has something upset you？ You're running a slight temperature。〃
The girl in the bed answered with a question of her own。 Frightenedly； tautly。 〃What's that doing on my bed？ Why is it there？〃
〃Everyone who's ill has to have one；〃 the nurse answered soothingly。 〃It's nothing； just a…〃
〃But look…the name。 It says…〃
〃Does the sight of your own name frighten you？ You mustn't look at it。 You're really not supposed to see it there。 Sh； don't talk now any more。〃
〃But there's something I…But you have to tell me； I don't understand…〃
The nurse took her pulse。
And as she did so； the patient was suddenly looking at her own hand； in frozen； arrested horror。 At the little circlet with diamonds； enfolding the third finger。 At the weddingband。 As though she'd never seen it before； as though she wondered what it was doing there。
The nurse saw her trying to take it off； with flurried little tugs。 It wouldn't move easily。
The nurse's face changed。 〃Just a moment； I'll be right back；〃 she said uneasily。
She brought the doctor in with her。 Her whispering stopped as they crossed the threshold。
He came over to the bed； put his hand to her forehead。
He nodded to the nurse and said； 〃Slight〃
He said； 〃Drink this。〃
It tasted salty。
They put the hand under the covers；