"By the way, who's going to pay you, doctor?
I can't." The doctor's face rumpled up into wrinkles.

(Frank wished he wouldn't sit with his back to the window.) "Don't you bother about that, my boy.

You're a case--that's what you are." Frank attempted a smile out of politeness.
"Now, how about some more beef-tea, and then going to sleep again ?" Frank assented.
* * * * * It was not until the Thursday morning that things began to run really clear again in Frank's mind.

He felt for his rosary under his pillow and it wasn't there.

Then he thumped on the floor with a short stick which had been placed by him, remembering that in some previous existence he had been told to do this.
A small, lean man appeared at the door, it seemed, with the quickness of thought.
"My rosary, please," said Frank.