Having resignedly drunk all the medicines, Irishka leaned back on the pillows, looking warily at the men who freely sprawled on the bed on either side of her.

"Miranda, let's go to dinner," Sister Martha called.

- Let her stay with me, you can eat here.

“Don't make up your mind, Aola, the girl will be back soon.

“I’ll be quick,” the necromashka obediently got off the bed. “And then I’ll read a book to you.”

“Bon appetit,” the girl tried to pull the blanket up to her chin.

- How are you, little bird? Greg propped himself up on his elbow.

“Weakness, my head hurts, I want to eat,...