"Owen—Nina said there'd be no end to my paying. But there shall be an end to it. For a year it's been one long fight for his little life, and I've won; but he'll never be strong; never, I'm afraid, like other children. He'll always remind me——"
"Remind you?"
"Yes. They say I'm responsible for him. It's the hard work I've done. It's my temperament—my nerves."
"Your nerves?"
"Yes. I'm supposed to be hopelessly neurotic."
"But you're not. Your nerves are very highly-strung—they're bound to be, or they wouldn't respond as perfectly as they do—but they're the soundest nerves I know. I should say you were sound all over."
"Should you?"
"Certainly."
"Then" (she almost cried it) "why should he suffer?"
"Do you mean to say you don't know what's the matter with him?"