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 bed clothes.
There still seemed something that she had to say. As if Joan hadn't
thought of everything. Her eyes were fixed upon the narrow strip of
light between the window curtains.
"You don't think you could, dear," she whispered, "if I didn't do
anything wicked any more. But just let things take their course."
"You see, dear," she went on, her face still turned away, "I thought it
all finished.
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