"Doctor Danilo is a Greek Catholic," Claire answered.
There was an awkward pause in which it appeared that Doctor Stoddard was marshaling all his wits for a serious encounter. Finally he said:
"I hope he is not insisting on your partaking of his communion."
"We have never even discussed the thing. Really, I hardly know what his views are. As a matter of fact, it makes no difference."
"Makes no difference!... Why, my dear Miss Robson, it would seem to me that it ought to make a very great difference. You don't mean to say that you would sacrifice every conviction upon the altar of love?"
Claire, who had been standing, took a seat. "My dear Doctor Stoddard, have you really ever met a woman seriously in love?"
The gentleman coughed and began to polish his finger-nails upon the glossy surface of his coat-sleeve.
"I have been in the ministry for over thirty years." He stopped a moment, measuring Claire for a supreme thrust as he finished with a certain pompous satisfaction. "And you forget, Miss Robson, I am myself a married man!"
Here was simple, conceited, masculine faith again! Claire could not restrain a smile as she changed the subject. But it came to her as she did so that there was something at once pathetic and terrible about so bland an assurance. She thought of Stillman and quite unconsciously she found herself mentally repeating:
"I must tell Danilo in the morning."