A Strange Greeting, a True Feeling Last week I was invited to a doctor’s meeting at the Ruth hospital for incurables. In one of the wards a patient, an old man, got up shakily from his bed and moved towards me. I could see that he hadn't long to  1   , but he came up to me and placed his right foot close mine on the floor.

“Frank£¡” I cried in astonishment. He couldn’t  2 , as I knew, but all the time  3  his foot against mine.

My  4   raced back more than thirty years to the  5   days of 1941, when I was a student in London. The  6  was an air-raid shelter, in which I and about hundred other people slept every night. Two of the regulars were Mrs. West and her son Frank.