"Yes, I am; but I have learned that true religion is a state of mind rather than a code of dogmas."
Felicia looked uncomfortable. "I wish you wouldn't talk like that; I am sure mamma wouldn't like it—she can not bear anything that borders on the profane."
"I am not bordering on the profane; I am only saying what I uphold is true. I can not take things for granted as you do; I have to think them out for myself; and I have come to the conclusion that what a man is is of far more importance than what a man believes."
"But you ought not to think things like that, Elisabeth; it isn't right to do so."
"I can't help thinking it. I am an independent being with a mind of my own, and I must make up that mind according to what I see going on around me. What on earth is the good of having an intellect, if you submit that intellect to the will of another? I wonder how you can take your ideas all ready-made from your mother," exclaimed Elisabeth, who just then was taking all hers ready-made from Alan Tremaine.
"Well, I can not argue. I am not clever enough; and, besides, mamma doesn't like us to argue upon religious subjects—she says it is unsettling; so I will only say that I know you are wrong, and then we will let the matter drop and talk about Christopher. How is he?"
"Oh, he is all right, only very horrid. To tell you the truth, I am getting to dislike Christopher."
"Elisabeth!" Felicia's Madonna-like face became quite sorrowful.
"Well, I am; and so would you, if he was as stand-off to you as he is to me. I can't think what is wrong with him; but whatever I do, and however nice I try to be to him, the North Pole is warm and neighbourly compared with him. I'm sick of him and his unsociable ways!"
"But you and he used to be such friends."