"It isn't as if I weren't all right." "Oh if you weren't all right I wouldn't look at you!" I tenderly said.
We had both got up, quickened as by this clearer air, and he had lighted a cigarette.

I had taken a fresh one, which with an intenser smile, by way of answer to my exclamation, he applied to the flame of his match.
"If I weren't better I shouldn't have thought of _that_!" He flourished his script in his hand.
"I don't want to be discouraging, but that's not true," I returned.

"I'm sure that during the months you lay here in pain you had visitations sublime.

You thought of a thousand things.

You think of more and more all the while.