"There's something else," he said. "I'm not sure, Pat, but I think—I hope—you've got him back without the devil!"
"He's cured?" Her voice was incredulous; she did not dare accept the Doctor's meaning.
"I hope so. At least I located the cause."
"What was it?" she demanded, an unexpected vigor livening her tired body. "What was that devil? Tell me! I want to know, Dr. Carl!"
"I think the best name for it is a tumor," he said slowly. "I told them in there it was a tumor. I wish I knew myself."
"A tumor! I don't understand!"
"I don't either, Pat—not fully. It's something on or beyond the border of medical knowledge. I don't think any living authority could classify it definitely."
"But tell me!" she cried fiercely. "Tell me!"
"Well, Honey—I'll try." He paused thoughtfully. "Cancers and tumors—sarcomas—are curious things, Dear. Doctors aren't at all sure just what they are. And one of their peculiarities is that they sometimes seem to be trying to develop into separate entities, trying to become human by feeding like parasites on their hosts. Do you understand?"
"No," said the girl. "I'm sorry, Dr. Carl, but I don't."