“Because it would force me to believe in God—who doesn’t exist,” he cried, banging his fist down on the table.
Marguerite and Veronica exchanged anxious glances, and then both looked towards Julie.
“I think it’s time to go to bed, my darling,” said her mother. “Make haste. We’ll come and say good night to you when you’re in bed.”
The child, terrified by the dreadful words and diabolical appearance of her uncle, fled.
“If I am to be cured, I want to owe it to no one but myself. So there!”
“Then what about the doctor?” ventured Marguerite.
“I pay him for his visits. We are quits.”
“Whilst gratitude to God,” said Julius in his gravest, deepest voice, “would bind you....”
“Yes, brother Julius, and that is why I don’t pray.”
“Others pray for you, my dear.”