Now he was interested; he was intrigued; he was on her trail.
"When Desmond did--that awful thing. I wanted you to see that it didn't matter, it wasn't the end."
"But that's just what I did see, what I kept on telling myself. It looks as if it worked, then?"
"It doesn't always. It comes and goes. But I think with you it would always come; because you're more me than other people; I mean I care more for you."
She closed and clinched it. "That's why you're not to bother about me, Nicky. If the most awful thing happened, and you didn't come back, It would come."
"I wish I knew what It was," he said.
"I don't know what it is. But it's so real that I think it's God."
"That's why they're so magnificently brave--Dorothy and Aunt Frances and all of them. They don't believe in it; they don't know it's there; even Michael doesn't know it's there--yet; and still they go on bearing and bearing; and they were glad to give you up."
"I know," he said; "lots of people say they're glad, but they really are glad."
He meditated.