ed, and her
lips moved, as if she were praying in her sleep. Perhaps she also was
dreaming of Gethsemane. It must be quite a crowded garden, if only we
could see it.

After a while, her eyes opened. Joan drew her chair nearer and slipped
her arm in under her, and their eyes met.

"You're not playing the game," whispered Joan, shaking her head. "I only
promised on condition that you would try to get well."

The woman made no attempt to deny. Something told her that Joan had
learned her secret. She glanced towards the door. Joan had closed it.

"Don't drag me back," she whispered. "It's all finished." She raised
herself up and put her arms about Joan's neck. "It was hard at first,
and I hated you. And then it came to me that this was what I had been
wanting to do, all my life--something to help him, that nobody else could
do. Don't take it from me."

"I know," whispered Joan. "I've been there, too. I knew you were doing
it, though I didn't quite know how--till the other day. I wouldn't
think. I wanted to pretend that I didn't. I know all you can say. I've
been listening to it. It was right of you to want to give it all up to
me for his sake. But it would be wrong of me to take it. I don't quite
see why. I can't explain it. But I mustn't. So you see it would be no
good."

"But I'm so useless," pleaded the woman.

"I said that," answered Joan. "I wanted to do it and I talked and
talked, so hard. I said everything I could think of. But that was the
only answer: I mustn't do it."

They remained for a while with their arms round one another. It struck
Joan as curious, even at the time, that all feeling of superiority had
gone out of her. They might have been two puzzled children that had met
one another on a path that neither knew. But Joan was the stronger
character.

"I want you to give me up that box," she said, "and to come away with me
where I can be with you and take care of you until you are well."

Mrs. Phillips made yet another effort. "Have you thought about him?" she
asked.

Joan answered with a faint smile. "Oh, yes," she said. "I didn't forget
that argument in case it hadn't occurred to the Lord."

"Perhaps," she added, "the helpmate theory was intended to apply only to
our bodies. There was nothing said about our souls. Perhaps God doesn't
have to work in pairs. Perhaps we were meant to stand alone."

Mrs. Phillips's thin hands were playing nervously with the be