"I swore I'd make you drink, this time; if I died for it."
She leaned back in the corner of her couch, looking at him.
"Thank heaven you've never lied to me; because now I know."
"I wonder if you do. It's alive, Jinny; it's organic; it's been conceived and born." He brought his chair close to the table that stood beside her couch, a barrier between them. "It's got what we're all praying for—that divine unity——"
"I didn't think it could have it. I'm torn in pieces."
"You? I knew you would be."
"It wasn't the book."
"What was it?" he said fiercely.
"It was chiefly, I think, Mabel Brodrick's illness."
"Whose illness?"