If I were only sure. I have pledged my word
and my honour. What did he know? I need all the reserve of
character to hold up against the Nervina. From the beginning she
has been my opponent. What is her interest in the Blind Spot and
myself? Who is she? I cannot think of her as evil. She is too
beautiful, too tender; her concern is so real. Sometimes I think
of her as my protector, that it is she, and she alone who holds
back the power which would engulf me. Once she made a personal
appeal.
Jerome had gone. I was alone. I had dragged myself to the desk and
my notes and data. It was along toward spring and in the first
shadows of the early evening. I had turned on the lights. It was
the first labour I had done for several days. I had a great deal
of work before me. I had begun sometime before to take down my
temperature. I was careful of everything now, as much as I could
be under the depression. So far I had discerned nothing that could
be classed as pathological.
There is something subtle about the Nervina. She is much like the
Rhamda. Perhaps they are the same. I hear no sound, I have no
notion of a door or entrance. Watson had said of the Rhamda,
"Sometimes you see him, sometimes you don't." It is so with the
Nervina. I remember only my working at the data and the sudden
movement of a hand upon my desk--a girl's hand. It was
bewildering. I looked up.
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