"Yes, but Edith did know, don't you think?"
"She knew I was unhappy."
"She's told me that you gave her the story about Jim, after that damn letter of his."
"Yes, I went to pieces too, that once. But at that time I wasn't even quite certain yet about the pregnancy. As for the suicide thing, why, I wasn't consciously thinking in those terms until the day of the picnic. It was all over, you know, but I'm female enough so I didn't enjoy watching Jim the tender husband and Ann acting like a new bride, Jim all braced to speak to me politely but hoping to God he wouldn't have to—and also wanting to—yes, I could feel that. So I wandered off into that part of the garden. It wasn't till I noticed the monkshood plants that I started telling myself how that way wouldn't hurt. Then I was digging up two or three, just to look at them. I nibbled at one, and spat it out."
"You saw Edith every day that week, didn't you? Went to the studio as usual?"
"Yes."
"Oh, she knew you were in the depths. She loves you. Your moods aren't the mystery to her that they are to most people, Callista. As for her factual knowledge—well, you might as well be prepared to hear her exaggerate that a little, even lie some about how much she knew if she thinks it will help you."
"I'm strangely rich and fortunate. I have two friends."
"I wish we were stronger. Well, after Edith testifies, then you, if you will promise me one thing—two things."