“Hush!” quickly Jenny laid her fingers over his mouth; “you must leave me that at least—my religion.”
“Child, child, religion is a man-made door, blocking all hope of vistas beyond.”
“Faith is a crystal window,” whispered Jenny, her brown eyes steadfast.
“Maybe. Nothing so opaque as crystal.”
Deb said reproachfully: “What can you give her to hang on to, for what you take away?”
“Herself. The courage and pride in her. It’s much more comforting really than a vague hope that God will come to the rescue in extremes. You can be definitely certain of the measure of your own powers; but God is at best a gamble.”
Jenny’s eyes strayed fearfully ceilingward....
“Looking for the thunderbolt that will destroy the blasphemer?”
“I remember looking up in just that way, the first time I said damn,” Deb murmured reminiscently.