She flashed a star-eyed, wordless question at him, born of a swift and panicky fear.
“No. I haven’t touched it—not since I went into the hills. But—I might.”
“What nonsense! Of course, you won’t.”
“How do I know?”
“It’s too silly to think about. Why should you?”
“It’s not a matter of reason. I tried to stop before, and I couldn’t.”
“But you stopped this time.”
“Yes. I haven’t had the headaches. Suppose they began again. They’re fierce—as though the top of my head were being sawed off. If they came back—what then? How do I know I wouldn’t turn to the drug for relief?”
“They won’t come back.”
“But if they did?”