An Italian voice, which he was sure was a doctor's--a clear, decided,
youthful voice, with a slight Irish brogue, which he knew must belong to
a young girl, and an older, softer voice, often choked with tears, and
occasionally a moaning sound, and wild snatches of song, which affected
him strangely, for this voice, broken and weak as it was, had in it
something familiar, and he tried in vain to recall where he had heard it
before and under what circumstances. Once he thought he heard his own
name, as if the sick girl (he felt intuitively that it was a girl) were
calling for him, and, starting up, he listened intently, but caught only
the tones of the tearful, sobbing voice which said:
"Hush, darling, hush! We are all here; try to be quiet and sleep."
At last, worn out with wakefulness and the fatigue of his long journey
from Naples, Grey fell into a deep sleep, from which he did not waken
until nearly ten the next morning. Dressing himself hastily he went at
once to the office and asked who occupied the room adjoining his own.
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