She heard herself as John's great crying voice and heeded the prison
and the martyrdom not at all: it was a moment's flash, a moment's
revelation. Then she turned to him. Her eyes were very bright. She spoke
rapidly, nervously.
"Louis--that doctor you know--the Dean. Do you think they are the only
wise folks on earth? I mean, do you think wisdom begins and ends with
wise people? I don't, you know." she paused, frowning, not quite sure
where this thought was going to lead her.
"They're the best chaps on earth," he murmured. "I c-could have b-been
like them."
"But what is it makes them wise and fine? It's--I think--because they
get rid of themselves, and let God shine through them to other people."
He turned impatiently. She caught his hot, damp, dirty hand in hers.
"Louis, I don't know very much. I've proved I can't hold you very well
already, but I care an awful lot. Louis--how would it be if you threw it
all on to me for a while till either you believe in God or in yourself?
And I've a sort of belief that, whichever you believe in first, you'll
believe in the other automatically--I'm not a bit clever, Louis. I never
was. Always I get puzzled, always I realize how utterly unlearned I am.
Always father called me an idiot and threw things at me for it. But in
spite of being a duffer I'm sure I can help you.
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