"Thoo canna."
Then a voice spoke through her, a voice that was not hers, coming from far away over waste seas, a voice she had never heard before and did not recognise.
"I can—Lord Jesus helpin me."
At that the mists began to float away. She saw more clearly now. The worst perhaps was over.
"You want a mon with a purpose in his life."
Ah, how well he knew her!
"A mon who knows what he wants to do and means to do it.—And you must have it or dee. The bairns arena enough for a woman like you."
He was putting forth the whole of his huge strength to overwhelm her: she was aware of it and of her own weakness.
"A've got a purpose. You can help me fulfill it—none else, only you. Time was A thought A could go on alone. You learnt me better. A canna. God didna make mon that way—not this mon any gate. Mon needs Woman for his work. A need you."
Quietly she was gathering her forces.