"In desperate need.

And you can help me." Her tone was urgent, her compelling gaze never faltered.

She knew that this was her last chance--that, if this man failed her, catastrophe was inevitable.
The Mystic stirred uncomfortably, and his glance turned half fearfully from the intent, appealing face to the lectern on which rested the white-bound Scitsym.
With a sudden access of enthusiasm, Enid spoke again.
"There is something troubling my Soul," she said.

"Something that I must confess to the Prophet to-night.

My whole happiness--all my peace--depends upon confessing it.