"Oh, of course not. Why, I couldn't, Monica. I should never feel ... oh, no, Monica, it would really be impossible for me to talk to Guy about his faith."
"His faith seems rather to have frozen lately," said Monica.
"He's been upset and disappointed."
"All the more reason for going to church," Monica argued.
"Yes, for you, darling, or for me; but Guy may be different."
"There's no room for moods in one's religious duties. The artistic temperament is not provided for."
That serene and nun-like conviction of tone made Pauline feel a little rebellious, and yet in its corroboration of her own uneasiness she could not laugh it aside.
"Well, even if there's no excuse for him and even supposing it made me dreadfully anxious," she affirmed, "I still wouldn't say a word to him."
"Does he know you go to Confession?"
Pauline blushed. Monica was like a Roman Catholic in the matter-of-fact way in which she alluded to something that for Pauline pierced such sanctities as could scarcely even be mentioned by herself to her own soul.