Into it she read
Kraill's voice, pictured his gesture, saw how his quick eyes would look
friendly, interested, arresting as he talked. On the last page was a
paragraph that someone had marked in pencil. In the margin was "J.R.K."
written faintly. She read the paragraph hungrily. Evidently he had meant
it as a message for her.
_"One of the greatest of human triumphs is to read the need in
another's eyes and be able to fulfil it. The difficulty lies in
comprehending the need. Most of us have rich storehouses, but to the
man who needs of us a crutch we give dancing shoes: to him who needs a
spur we offer wrappings of cotton-wool. ... We ask tolerance and sympathy
for our failings, patience for our inadequacies ... we give and get only
disappointment.... Partly this is because our needs are the things we
hide most jealously from each other, partly because we only see needs
subjectively ... this is the explanation of most of the sex muddles that
tangle life."_
As she read Kraill's message she thought again of her prayer for
weakness down by the lake. As she stood there, with all the lights of
her life burning dim, all the virtue gone out of her, it was forced upon
her that her prayer was being answered. She was getting weak! Never
before had she felt despairing about Louis; never before had she felt so
dull, so unable to help him, so unable to care that he should be helped.
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