One day Anna tackled Teresa over the doctrine of Transubstantiation.
“I’ve never believed in fairies and things,” she said, “and this sounds much more untruer—is it true?”
Teresa looked at her square, sensible little face—though without the humour, so ridiculously like Harry’s in shape and expression—and her heart sank.
What could she say?
Einstein—Bergson—Unamuno ... their theories were supposed to provide a loophole.
She began to mutter idiotically:
“Una—muno—mena—mo,
Catch a nigger by his toe.”
“But is it true?” persisted Anna.