“I’m a miserable tool,” said Marvel.

“You are,” said the voice.

“I’m the worst possible tool you could have,” said Marvel.

“I’m not strong,” he said after a discouraging silence.

“I’m not over strong,” he repeated.

“No?”

“And my heart’s weak. That little business⁠—I pulled it through, of course⁠—but bless you! I could have dropped.”

“Well?”

“I haven’t the nerve and strength for the sort of thing you want.”