Another thing his -- her -- new religion prohibited, Ron thought sourly, then chuckled internally. Aside from a few well done pork chops, he never had been all that fond of pork anyway. Not even ham or bacon."We are taught to be tolerant, sister," Roxanna answered thoughtfully, speaking as much to herself and the male mind still stirring within her own as to her older sibling. "Infidels are no more cruel by nature than those of us who acknowledge the God of Mohammad. Nor are they intentionally wicked by their standards. They are only ignorant of our ways, and when told of them, do their best to honor them where we are concerned."Ron was reeling in shock, at least the part of him still present, which was mostly memory and a little remaining conscious, thought in the background of things. Both of these women, even though one was himself, were lovely, tolerant beings who deserved far better than people like Robertson and his cronies wished for them. They were just people, he realized,. Ten minutes later Carson was gone, her lingering fragrance proving she’d not been a post-operative hallucination. A cheerful and robust woman by the name of Maggie, Harry’s neighbor from across the street arrived with a cake, still warm. Then in popped Mrs McPherson from two doors down and then arrived elderly Mr and Mrs Trumpet from five doors up from Harry’s home. Attempting to rationalize this, Harry concluded these people thought they know him well enough to rate him as worthy of visiting in hospital. In the tradition of hospital interference, the ward manager arrived and told the visitors they should leave after ten minutes because more visitors were waiting to see Harry. ‘You’re so popular Harry,’ said Mrs McPherson, kissing him. ‘Yes,’ said Maggie, looking at him rather intensely. ‘I don’t know how I’ve managed to overlook you. I shall see you tomorrow. Some of these visitors will be oncers, like moths around a candle. I’ll be back every day Harry,’ she said, leaning over.
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