West Borough, Carlpensa Hotel.
Fors helped Lawrence into his room and laid him down on the bed.
It was a rather luxurious hotel, with thick, soft, grayish-yellow carpets everywhere except the washroom. On the walls hung imitations of famous oil paintings.
Lawrence gasped for air and said, "Thank you, Miss Wall, and please forgive a dying man for not being able to bow."
"No, Mr. Lawrence, your problem has eased. As a former medical doctor, I can tell you without a doubt that you can still live. After some rest, we'll go to a clinic or a hospital," Fors consoled him.
Lawrence smiled. "I know my physical condition very well. You don't have to comfort me. Besides, I'm an amateur astrologer. I already had a premonition that I'm going to die in this hotel in Backlund."
