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.
      7   wartime problems, we shelter-dwellers got to   8   each