“Children crying for help to the Eternal Father,” said Janet. “Something like that, though I can’t get the hang of it.”
They went together into a church somewhere off the Wilhelmstrasse, and kneeling side by side, Christy and Janet bent their heads and stayed in the silence and the gloom before an altar with twinkling lights, and in their queer way prayed to the Unknown God for Bertram, their friend.
“What was your prayer?” asked Janet, when they came out.
Christy smiled.
“Not much of a one. I said, ‘Oh, God, where in God’s name are you? Why have you made such a mess of this bloody old world?’ Then I kept on saying, ‘Oh, God! Oh, God!’ until my mind went into a kind of coma, very restful.”
“Fine,” said Janet. “A real confession of faith.”
“What was your prayer?” asked Christy.
Janet could hardly remember her prayer. She had offered her heart to the Unknown God, and said many times, “Dear God!” and then, “Dear Bertram!”
“We’re weakening,” said Christy. “This is nonsense. It’s a disgrace to the intellect.”
“No,” said Janet, “I’m strengthened. I believe God will like this little visit. I believe it’s a good thing to do.”