CHAPTER SEVEN
“Well,” Brock inquired, three days later; “have you been doing ecclesiastics again, to-day?”
Nancy, glancing up from her soup, registered the impression that Brock supported an extremely good tailor, and that his Sabbath raiment was becoming to him.
“Yes. You told me that this was the proper day for it.”
“Where did you go?”
“To the Basilica, of course.”
Brock smiled.
“True to the tradition of the tourist. By the way, that’s rather a good alliteration. I think I’ll use it again sometime.”
Nancy disregarded his rhetorical outburst and pinned her attention to the fact.
“Do they always go there?”