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"
You
ca
n't
be
sick
,
"
said
Mildred
.
He
closed
his
eyes
over
the
hotness
.
"
Yes
.
"
"
But
you
were
all
right
last
night
.
"
"
No
,
I
was
n't
all
right
.
"
He
heard
the
"
relatives
"
shouting
in
the
parlour
.
Mildred
stood
over
his
bed
,
curiously
.
He
felt
her
there
,
he
saw
her
without
opening
his
eyes
,
her
hair
burnt
by
chemicals
to
a
brittle
straw
,
her
eyes
with
a
kind
of
cataract
unseen
but
suspect
far
behind
the
pupils
,
the
reddened
pouting
lips
,
the
body
as
thin
as
a
praying
mantis
from
dieting
,
and
her
flesh
like
white
bacon
.
He
could
remember
her
no
other
way
.
"
Will
you
bring
me
aspirin
and
water
?
"
"
You
've
got
to
get
up
,
"
she
said
.
"
It
's
noon
.
You
've
slept
five
hours
later
than
usual
.
"
"
Will
you
turn
the
parlour
off
?
"
he
asked
.
"
That
's
my
family
.
"
"
Will
you
turn
it
off
for
a
sick
man
?
"
