Perhaps she also was dreaming of Gethsemane.

It must be quite a crowded garden, if only we could see it.
After a while, her eyes opened.

Joan drew her chair nearer and slipped her arm in under her, and their eyes met.
"You're not playing the game," whispered Joan, shaking her head.

"I only promised on condition that you would try to get well." The woman made no attempt to deny.

Something told her that Joan had learned her secret.