He nodded his head to inspire her confidence; and she continued:
“Very well, now to the point. My ward, the little Inca princess, is coming out shortly. I want her to have the entrée into the very best society, into the most fashionable and exclusive set, as befitting her rank.” She stopped and awaited the effect of her words.
Monsignor studied her for a moment, and then broke into a genial laugh. “There is nothing reprehensible in your wish, Madam,” he said. “Our social system, however imperfect, nevertheless exists, and––dominant Catholic influence might improve it. I am quite sure it would.”
“Good!” exclaimed Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. “Then will you help me?”
“Why, I really see nothing that I can do,” he replied slowly.
Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was becoming exasperated with his apparent dullness. “You can do much,” she retorted in a tone tinctured with impatience. “Since I have made you my Father Confessor to-day, I am going to tell you that I intend to start a social war that will rip this city wide open. It is going to be war in which Catholic is pitted against Protestant. Now, which side is your Church on?”
For a moment her blunt question startled him, and he stared at her uncomprehendingly; but he quickly recovered his poise and replied calmly, “Neither, Madam; it remains quite neutral.”
“What!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t you interested?”
“Pardon me if I say it; not at all.”