The man was holding one hand out, above Carlin's head—quite still, but not close, while he spoke. Skag felt his strength more than at first.
"Do you want her for yourself?" he asked.
Skag looked into his kind dark eyes—his own eyes speaking for him.
"Do you want her for her own sake—because she loves you? Is it that you have knowledge what will be best for her? Did you create her—did you prepare her ultimate destiny, do you even know it?"
"I know that I am in it!"
Skag answered very low, but with conviction. His eyes were agonised; but the man bored into them, without relenting.
"Do you want her to come back from the margin of departure, for the sake of others—for the sake of her ministry to their need?"
The answer to this last question came up in Skag—waves on waves, rolling into engulfing billows.
"That answer may avail!" the man said conclusively. "If it is accepted—if your love for her is perfect enough to forget itself—if you are able to make your mind altogether inactive—"
"Then how shall I work—if not with my mind?" Skag interrupted.