'You're preaching pure Paganism.'
'Oh, I'm not denying I'm a Pagan—in my amateurish way. Let me give you some asparagus. Do you think a man can be saved who smokes cigarettes between the courses?'
'Saved?' questioned André. 'What have cigarettes to do with a man's salvation?'
'It's a habit I learned in Russia. I feared it might relate itself in some way to the Schism.' And he lit a cigarette. 'I'm always a rigid Catholic when I'm in France.'
'And when you're in England?'
'Oh, one goes in for local colour, for picturesqueness, don't you know. The Church of England's charmingly overgrown with ivy. And besides, they're going to disestablish it. One must make the most of it while it lasts. Tell me—why can you never get decent brioches except in Catholic countries?'
'Is that a fact?'
'I swear it.'
'It's very singular,' said André.
'It's only one of the many odd things a fellow learns from travel.—Hush! Wait a moment.'