'One just goes to see it like a spectacle?' she said at last, slowly. 'One needn't do anything oneself?'
Miss Manisty stared—and then laughed. 'Nobody will see what you do in such a crowd—I should think,' she said. 'But you know one can't be rude—to an old old man. If others kneel, I suppose we must kneel. Does it do anyone harm to be blessed by an old man?'
'Oh no!—no!' cried Miss Foster, flushing deeply. Then, after a moment, she added decidedly—'Please—I should like to go very much.'
Manisty grinned unseen, and closed the door behind him.
Then Miss Foster, after an instant's restlessness, moved nearer to her hostess.
'I am afraid—you thought I was rude just now? It's so lovely of you to plan things for me. But—I can't ever be sure whether it's right to go into other people's churches and look at their services—like a show. I should just hate it myself—and I felt it once or twice at Florence. And so—you understand—don't you?'—she said imploringly.
Miss Manisty's small eyes examined her with anxiety. 'What an extraordinary girl!' she thought. 'Is she going to be a great bore?'
At the same time the girl's look—so open, sweet and modest—disarmed and attracted her. She shrugged her shoulders with a smile.
'Well, my dear—I don't know. All I can say is, the Catholics don't mind! They walk in and out of their own churches all the time mass is going on—the children run about—the sacristans take you round. You certainly needn't feel it on their account.'
'But then, too, if I am not a Catholic—how far ought one to be taking part—in—in what—'