"Well, religion is something. And the Bible—"
Ronnie jumped up.
"We'll try the luck, Evie!" He went to a shelf and took down a book.
Evie was a dubious spectator. The fallibility of the method seemed open to question when such enormous issues were at stake. Yet she accepted a trifle reluctantly, the little sword he handed to her, and thrust it between the pages of the closed book.
She opened it at the passage the sword had found.
"'Woe unto you—'" she began, but he snatched the book from her hands.
"No, silly," he said, and read glibly. "'There is no fear in love: perfect love casteth out fear!'"
Evie was skeptical.
"You made it up!" she accused. "I mean, you only pretended it was there. I know that passage. I learned it at school—it is in John."
He chuckled, delighted at her astuteness. "You little bishop," he said, and kissed her. "Now sit and amuse yourself. I want to speak to François."