She saw facts clearly and terribly. She was really inside the doors at last, and though it would be all the easier to make her understand the facts she saw, Gavan paled a little before the sudden, swift presence.
For, yes, God was gone, and yes,—worse, far worse, as he knew she felt it,—his mother, too—except as that ghost, that pang of memory.
She saw his pallor and helped him again, to the first and easier avowal.
“How did you lose your faith? What happened to you when you left me?”
“It’s a commonplace enough story, that.”
“Of course it is. But when loss of faith becomes permanent and permanently means a loss of feeling, it’s not so commonplace.”
“Oh, I think it is—more commonplace than people know, in temperaments as unvital and as logical as mine.”
“You are not unvital.”
“My reason isn’t often blurred by my instincts.”
“That is because you are strong—terribly strong. It’s not that your vitality is so little as that your thought is so abnormal.”