As a climax to all this, they subjected her to an immense electric shock which prostrated her for a week. Then they sat back, and waited.

When she came to, Esther Costello could neither see, hear, nor speak.

To the doctors, this appeared a particularly offensive outcome, and they would have tried again, with louder noises, thicker whips. But Mrs Bannister, following from day to day and month to month the frightful campaign she herself had initiated, had already had enough. Each time she had gone to see Esther in hospital (where the girl had spent nearly a year) she had hoped that the fearful things they were doing to her would justify themselves by success; and each time, when there was only failure to record, she was left with a diminished belief in the rightness of what they were doing, as well as a sense of shame for the past. After the electric shock treatment, she knew that they must do no more … It did not matter that she was closely involved in this failure, and that it meant the public defeat of all her hopes. There was an end to every journey, whether it was down the road to the post office, or the three thousand miles from Cloncraig to Boston: and people of common sense and normal will know where that end was, and what you did when you got to it. You turned back.

Thanking the doctors, and settling their not inconsiderable bills, she took Esther home to her Commonwealth Avenue apartment. There she gave an interview to the newspapers, which duly recorded ‘No Hope for Esther Costello’ (for the name was now widely known), and let the matter drop. Then she sat down to think; and since she felt the need, and did not mind acknowledging it, she drew her friends round to help her decide the next step.

There were only two courses to choose from, once they had abandoned the solace of medical aid: Esther could stay, or she could go. When they came to review these choices, it seemed that the women were for one alternative, and Paul Marchant for another; the division was along lines of female sentiment versus male realism, as traditional and as banal as sex itself.

With mixed motives, Paul Marchant wanted Esther shipped home to Ireland straightaway. He produced some of his arguments for inspection, suppressed others; the plain fact was that he had become jealous of her. Esther seemed to take up far too much of Mrs Bannister’s time, and of her money also; Marchant was a comparatively rich man, but if he ever did marry Belle Bannister – the idea flowed on one day, ebbed on another – it would be a pity if her comfortable fortune had been dissipated meantime. He feared that she was making a fool of herself over Esther: a single philanthropic effort was all right, but not one that went on and on … It was hard to put into words his view that Esther Costello had become a damned nuisance; but he did his best, using the phrases he hoped would carry most weight.