“And, O Walter—Dick—it hurt—it hurt—and for a breath before I ran to him it was like—like coming from a world in which there was no disorder, no sorrow, no doubts, a rhythmic, harmonious world of light and music, into—into a world that was like a black and dirty kitchen.
“And it's there,” her voice rose, hysterically. “It's still within me—whispering, whispering; urging me away from you, from Martin, from every human thing; bidding me give myself up, surrender my humanity.
“Its seal,” she sobbed. “No—HIS seal! An alien consciousness sealed within me, that tries to make the human me a slave—that waits to overcome my will—and if I surrender gives me freedom, an incredible freedom—but makes me, being still human, a—monster.”
She hid her face in her hands, quivering.
“If I could sleep,” she wailed. “But I'm afraid to sleep. I think I shall never sleep again. For sleeping how do I know what I may be when I wake?”
I caught Drake's eye; he nodded. I slipped my hand down into the medicine-case, brought forth a certain potent and tasteless combination of drugs which I carry upon explorations.
I dropped a little into her cup, then held it to her lips. Like a child, unthinking, she obeyed and drank.
“But I'll not surrender.” Her eyes were tragic. “Never think it! I can win—don't you know I can?”
“Win?” Drake dropped down beside her, drew her toward him. “Bravest girl I've known—of course you'll win. And remember this—nine-tenths of what you're thinking now is purely over-wrought nerves and weariness. You'll win—and we'll win, never doubt it.”
“I don't,” she said. “I know it—oh, it will be hard—but I will—I will—”