The Flaw in the Crystal

by May Sinclair

"No, I won't tell him."

"Because you see, he'd think it was all rot."

"He would," said Milly. "It's the sort of thing he does think rot."

"And that might prevent its working."

Milly smiled faintly. "I haven't the ghost of an idea what 'it' is. But whatever it is, can you go on doing it?"

"Yes, I think so. You see, it depends rather——"

"It depends on what?"

"Oh, on a lot of things—on your sincerity; on your—your purity. It depends so much on that that it frightens you lest, perhaps, you mightn't, after all, be so very pure."

Milly smiled again, a little differently. "Darling, if that's all, I'm not frightened. Only—supposing—supposing you gave out? You might, you know."

"I might. But It couldn't. You mustn't think it's me, Milly. Because if anything happened to me, if I did give out, don't you see how it would let him down? It's as bad as thinking it's the place."