"Is it for the looks of the thing and for what people will say that you go to church?" asked the husband, gravely.
"No, of course not; but then we must have some regard for the speech of people, and how it will look for you to go off to one church and your wife to another."
"Would you care to go with me, Juliet?"
"With you? To St. Patrick's? With all the Bridgets and Pats and Mikes of the city? Do you think I could stoop so low? O, John Temple, you insult me!" and the young wife burst into indignant tears.
John hurried to her with his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She thrust it away, declaring there was something about a gentleman's handkerchief that made it abominable.
"Well, don't cry, dear," urged John, soothingly.
"It's all the comfort left me," sobbed Juliet.
"I simply followed your example," continued the husband. "You invited me to your church, and I invited you to mine, that, as you said, we might go together. I had no idea of urging you to go if it would be disagreeable to you."
"There's a vast difference. If you go to St. Mark's you are among elegant people. Every one's dress is in the height of fashion. You see nothing low or vulgar. There is nothing to offend the senses. The very thought of my going to St. Patrick's!" and the lady cast up her eyes as if she were about to faint or to implore Heaven to save her from such a horror.
"But you associate in society with the McCaffreys, the Dempseys, and the Blakes, and many others of the congregation of St. Patrick."