“How could it? If it’s divine, wouldn’t it be compassionate? Do you suppose it’s less compassionate than—you are? Why, Agatha, when it’s goodness and purity itself—?”
“Goodness and purity are terrible. We don’t understand it. It’s got its own laws. What you call prayer’s all right—it would be safe, I mean—I suppose it might get answered anyway, however we fell short. But this—this is different. It’s the highest, Milly; and if you rush in and make for the highest, can’t you see, oh, can’t you see how it might break you? Can’t you see what it requires of you? Absolute purity. I told you, Milly. You have to be crystal to it—crystal without a flaw.”
“And—if there were a flaw?”
“The whole thing, don’t you see, would break down; it would be no good. In fact, it would be awfully dangerous.”
“To whom?”
“To you—to them, the people you’re helping. You make a connection; you smash down all the walls so that you—you get through to each other; and supposing there was something wrong with you, and it doesn’t work any longer (the Power, I mean), don’t you see you might do harm where you were trying to help?”
“But—Agatha—there was nothing wrong with you.”
“How do I know? Can anybody be sure there’s nothing wrong with them?”
“You think,” said Milly, “there was a flaw somewhere?”
“There must have been—somewhere—”