Alice would have gone out softly, but without opening his eyes,
he spoke to her: "Don't go, dearie. Come sit with the old man a
little while."

She brought a chair near his. "I thought you were napping."

"No. I don't hardly ever do that. I just drift a little
sometimes."

"How do you mean you drift, papa?"

He looked at her vaguely. "Oh, I don't know. Kind of pictures.
They get a little mixed up--old times with times still ahead,
like planning what to do, you know. That's as near a nap as I
get--when the pictures mix up some. I suppose it's sort of
drowsing."

She took one of his hands and stroked it. "What do you mean when
you say you have pictures like 'planning what to do'?" she asked.

"I mean planning what to do when I get out and able to go to work
again."

"But that doesn't need any planning," Alice said, quickly.
"You're going back to your old place at Lamb's, of course."

Adams closed his eyes again, sighing heavily, but made no other
response.