They proceeded quite as far as a hundred yards before Courtlandt volunteered: “That must be interesting.”
“She is a good Catholic.”
“Ah, yes; I recollect now.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I haven’t any religion such as requires my presence in churches. Don’t misunderstand me! As a boy I was bred in the Episcopal Church; but I have traveled so much that I have drifted out of the circle. I find that when I am out in the open, in the heart of some great waste, such as a desert, a sea, the top of a mountain, I can see the greatness of the Omnipotent far more clearly and humbly than within the walls of a cathedral.”
“But God imposes obligations upon mankind. We have ceased to look upon the hermit as a holy man, but rather as one devoid of courage. It is not the stone and the stained windows; it is the text of our daily work, that the physical being of the Church represents.”
“I have not avoided any of my obligations.” Courtlandt shifted his stick behind his back. “I was speaking of the church and the open field, as they impressed me.”
“You believe in the tenets of Christianity?”
“Surely! A man must pin his faith and hope to something more stable than humanity.”
“I should like to convert you to my way of thinking,” simply.