“You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do not usually take the writing of a book in just that way.”
“I wish they did. You see, my doctor often said that books would live if they only held truth. He loved these words, ‘And above all else––Truth taketh away the victory!’ I can see him now waving his arms and singing that defiantly, as if he were challenging the whole world. He said that truth was the soul of things.”
“But who knows Truth?”
“There is something in us that knows it. Don’t you think so?”
“But we see it so differently.”
“That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed and sure. Isn’t that so?”
“I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then––good Lord! that is what I’m trying to find out.”
Northrup’s face grew tense.
“And so am I.”