“You are still praying?” he said.
She nodded.
He got up without a word and came over to her, leaning forward with his hands on his knees to peer into her face. Again, to her astonishment, she was not terrified.
She just waited, looking narrowly at the strange person who looked through Laurie’s eyes and spoke through his mouth. It was all as unreal as a fantastic dream. It seemed like some abominable game or drama that had to be gone through.
“And you mean to go on praying?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it’s the slightest use?”
“Yes.”
He smiled unnaturally, as if the muscles of his mouth were not perfectly obedient.
“Well, I have warned you,” he said.
Then he turned, went back to his couch, and this time lay down on it flat, turning over on his side, away from her, as if to sleep.
He settled himself there like a dog. She looked at him a moment; then closed her eyes and began again.
Five minutes later she understood.
The first symptom of which she was aware was a powerlessness to formulate her prayers. Up to that point she had leaned, as has been said,