The nun regarded Sylvia in perplexity.
"Have you thanked Almighty God for your recovery?" she asked.
"No, of course I haven't. I can't thank somebody I know nothing about," said Sylvia impatiently. "Besides, it's no good thanking God for my recovery unless I am sure I ought to be grateful. Mere living for the sake of living seems to me as sensual as any other appetite. Sister, can't you give me the key to life?"
The nun sheltered herself beneath an array of pious phrases; she was like a person who has been surprised naked and hurriedly flings on all the clothes in reach.
"All that you're saying means nothing to me," said Sylvia, sadly. "And the reason of it is that you've never lived. You've only looked at evil from the outside; you've only heard of unbelief."
"I'll make a Novena for you," said the nun, hopelessly. She said it in the same way as she would have offered to knit a woolen vest. "To-day is the Assumption." It was as if she justified the woolen vest by a change in the weather.
Sylvia thanked her for the Novena just as she would have thanked her for the woolen vest.
"Or perhaps you'd like a priest?" the nun suggested.
Sylvia shook her head.
"I don't feel I require professional treatment yet," she said. "Don't look so sad, little Sister. I expect your Novena will help me to what I'm trying to find—if I'm trying to find anything," she added, pensively. "I think really I'm waiting to be found."