“He’s a doctor,” said Meriel. She was about to start explaining about the funeral, the accident, the flight down from Smithers, but the conversation was taken away from her.

“But I’m not here officially, don’t worry,” the doctor said.

“Oh, no,” said Aunt Muriel. “You’re here with her.”

“Yes,” he said.

At this moment he reached across the space between their two chairs and picked up Meriel’s hand, holding it for a moment in a hard grip, then letting it go. And he said to Aunt Muriel, “How could you tell that? By my breathing?”

“I could tell,” she said with some impatience. “I used to be a devil myself.”