What was Barbara Flint to do?
She denied her Friend, denied that earlier world, denied her dreams and her hopes.

She cried a good deal, was very lonely in the dark.

Mary Adams, as was her way, having won her victory, passed on to win another.
IV Mary began, now, to find Barbara rather tiresome.

Having forced her to renounce her gods, she now despised her for so easy a renunciation.
Every day did she force Barbara through her act of denial, and the Inquisition of Spain held, in all its records, nothing more cruel.
"Did he come last night ?" "No." "He'll never come again, will he ?" "No." "Wasn't it silly of you to make up stories like that ?" "Oh, Mary--yes." "There aren't ghosts, nor fairies, nor giants, nor wizards, nor Santa Claus ?" "No; but, Mary, p'r'aps----" "No; there aren't.

Say there aren't." "There isn't." Poor Barbara, even as she concluded this ceremony, clutching her doll close to her to give her comfort, could not refrain from a hurried glance over her shoulder.