Tears rose to Evelyn's eyes; such an avowal of love a woman hardly ever hears.
The voices of the children playing in the garden reached their ears, and Evelyn said:
"They should have been in bed long ago, but, Owen, your being here makes everything so exceptional."
"Really? I'm glad of that," he answered shyly, fearing to say anything which would carry her thoughts back among unpleasant memories. But it was quite safe to speak of her love of the poor, and of poor children. "What inspired you to start this home, Evelyn?"
"Well, you see, I had to have something to work for, some interest; and not having any children of my own… They really must go to bed."
"But, Evelyn, why will you interrupt our talk? Let us go on talking; tell me about the convent. Your adventures are so much more wonderful than mine. You haven't half told me what there is to tell—the Prioress and the sub-Prioress, you never liked her?"
A smile gathered about her lips, and he asked her what she was smiling at; and it was with some difficulty he persuaded her to tell him about Sister Winifred and Father Daly."
"Counterparts! counterparts!" he said. "And Cecilia giving the whole show away because her counterpart was a dwarf! How could you live among such babies?"
"After all, Owen, are they any more babies than we are? Our interests are just as unreal."
"Your interest here is not as unreal; their hope is to build a wall of prayer between a sinful world and the wrath of God. Such silliness passes out of perception."