He gave her one of those concentrated glances then. "And how about that?
Never feel any more like heading the other way?"
She smiled, and the smile seemed to be covering a great deal. "Oh sometimes the perverse side of me feels like turning the other way. There are many sides to us—aren't there? But never mind about that," she hastened. "That is just something between me and myself. I can suppress all insurrections."
There was a pause. She leaned back in the big chair and was resting; he had seen from the first that she was very tired. "No desire to back out?"—he threw that out a little doubtfully.
She sat up straight. She looked, first angry, and then as if she were going to cry. "Doctor—tell me! Am I that unconvincing? Hasn't the winter—"
"This winter," he interrupted gently, "has proved that you knew what you were talking about when you came to me last fall. Could I say more than that? I only asked the question," he explained, "because this is the last chance for retreat."
And then he told her, watching the changing expressions of her responsive face. But at the last there was a timidity, a sort of frightened fluttering.
"But doctor—am I ready? Can I really do it? There is so much I don't know!"
"The consciousness of which is excellent proof of your progress. My idea is this. In any case it is going to be hard at the first. You might go on another year, and of course be in better shape, but I don't know just what Karl would be doing in that year; he's in need of a big rousing up, and as for you, after working the year with him, you'll be a long way ahead of where you would be alone. So it argues itself that way from both standpoints. I made up my mind when I was out the other day that Karl needs just what this is going to give."
"You think he looks badly?" she flew at that, relinquishing all else.
"You think Karl's not well?"
"I didn't mean that. But he needs the hope, the enthusiasm, activity, this is going to give."