"I do indeed. If I dared leave off (I daren't) you'd see for yourself."
"What do you think you've got hold of?"
"I don't know yet."
There was a long deep silence which Milly broke.
"What do you do?" she said.
"I don't do anything. It isn't me."
"I see," said Milly. "I've prayed. You didn't think I hadn't."
"It's not that—not anything you mean by it. And yet it is; only it's more, much more. I can't explain it. I only know it isn't me."
She was beginning to feel vaguely uncomfortable about having told her.
"And Milly, you mustn't tell him. Promise me you won't tell him."