"I'm not sure I know!" There were little puckers between Crendon's
eyes. "Put it this way. If she doesn't brood too much, if she leads
an active life and has complete confidence in her inner vision, her
sight may improve. I think the failure of a mutant's sight may be
partly due to--well, a kind of fear. Mutants feel cut off from 'normal'
humanity--whatever that may be--and are tempted to use their inner
vision as a means of escape. And when they do that the outer vision
dims to the vanishing point."
"Then you think--"
"Make her feel that she can be of assistance to you in every moment of
your waking life. Give her some important task to perform. Keep her
with you, lad, as much as you can. She's missed you these many months.
Make her realize you can't get along without her."
* * * * *
Langford's eyes held a dawning wonder; he seemed like a man from whom
an immense weight had been lifted. "I was just about to tell you that I
need her inward vision," he said. "Not only the eyes you've done your
best to restore, but her powers of clairvoyance."
"You mean that?"
"Why should I lie to you, doctor?"
For the second time Crendon smiled. "No reason, I suppose. But I
thought you might be deceiving yourself by pretending you needed her
when you didn't. You've been under something of a strain."