"It wasn't paralysis."

"What was it then?"

"Pure hysteria. Robin wasn't in love with her, and she knew it. She
developed that illness so that she might have a hold on him, get his
attention fastened on her somehow. I don't say she could help it. She
couldn't. But that's what it was."

"Well, she died of it."

"No. She died of pneumonia after influenza. I'm not blaming Prissie. She
was pitiable. But he ought never to have married her."

"I don't think you ought to say that."

"You know what he was," said Robin's wife. "And look at him now."

But Harriett's mind refused, obstinately, to connect the two Robins and
Priscilla.

She remembered that she had to speak to Robin. They went together into his
study. Cissy sent her a look, a signal, and rose; she stood by the
doorway.

"Beatie, you might come here a minute."

Harriett was alone with Robin.