Ten minutes later.
Sylvan Cheney returned to the hospital room.
He hadn't smoked but stood by the window making a phone call.
When he came back, he saw Jasmine Yale still sitting on the bed dazedly, hugging her knees, motionless, looking lost, and not having changed her clothes.
"Jasmine Yale, you don't like the clothes?" He frowned, displeased.
She didn't respond.
"Do I have to force you? If I force you, you'll scold me for being worse than a beast. Fine, if you keep this up, I'll go to your house and bring Little Clementine here, let her see what her mother is up to."
His words indeed provoked Jasmine Yale to lift her head: "Don't go see Little Clementine! You mustn't see her! You can do whatever you want to me, but you mustn't harm Little Clementine!"
"Do you think I want to see that girl? I'll give you one more chance, come downstairs with me for breakfast, otherwise, I'll drive to your house right now."
