Pharmacist Chu had grown fond of the pastor from Pyongyang and was pleased to see his recovery. He visited Isak only once a week now, and the young man seemed completely well.
"You'r too healthy to be in bed," the pharmacist said. "But don't get up just yet." Chu was seated beside Isak, who was lying flat on a bedroll in the storage closet. The draft from the gaps around the windowsill lifted Chu's white forelocks slightly. He placed the thick quilt over Isak's shoulders.
"You're warm enough?"
"Yes. I'm indebted to you and ajumoni."
"You still look too thin." Chu frowned. "I want to see you stout. There's no curve to your face. Don't you like the food here?"
The boardinghouse keeper looked as if she'd been scolded.
"The meals have been wonderful," Isak p;rotested. "I'm eating far more than what I pay in board. The food here is better than at home." Isak smiled at Yangjin and Sunja, who were standing in the hallway.
Chu leaned in to Isak's chest, where he had placed the bell of his stethoscope. The breathing sounded strong and even, similar to the week before The pastor seemed very fit.
"Make a coughing sound."
Chu listened throughtfullly to the timbre of the pastro's chest. "You've improved for certain, but you've been ill most of your life. And you had tuberculosis before. We need to be vigilant."
"Yes, but I feel strong now, sir, I'd like to write to my church in Osaka to let them know my travel dates. That is, If you think I can travel. My brother made me promise tha tI'd get your permissionj first." Isak closed his eyes as if in prayer.