There was just an instant's hesitation before she answered:
"No."
The doctor reflected, and Mary sat still, her long eyelids drooping—the image of maiden calm.
"Well, then, I was mistaken," said the doctor after a pause. "I thought you were interested in some one else—and I guess your mother thought so too.... But it wasn't that kind of interest."
"No, it wasn't," said Mary quickly.
"But it was—it is—an interest. I wish you could tell me what it is, why you think so much of Mr. Robertson as you do, what your feeling is about him."
"But—it isn't a personal feeling!" cried Mary, no longer calm, suddenly alert and on the defensive. "It has nothing to do with that!"
"But you admire him and look up to him—"
"Of course I do! But you don't understand, you don't believe—"
"It's religious, you mean, it's your feeling for religion, and he represents it—"