"But why not? Surely, Tom, you'll not allow your hard cold science to stand in the way of a sacrament!"
"I don't know whether it is a sacrament or isn't."
"Is that your reason for refusing what I so greatly desire?"
He looked away from her, and asked in a tone that was meant to be casual, "Do they use regular wine, or the unfermented kind?"
"So that's your reason!" she exclaimed. "I did not think you'd be afraid."
"Anything that has alcohol in it—" he sought to explain. "It's the very devil to rouse that craving! There have been times when I've taken a drink and fought it down—but not when—No, I can't risk it, Jenny."
"Not the communion wine? Surely no harm could come from that! You need take only the slightest sip."
"One taste might prove to be as bad as a glassful. You can't guess what it's like. I'm apt to go wild. Just the smell is bad enough."
"But it's the communion, Tom. You have been confirmed in the Church. You know what the consecrated bread and wine symbolize. You can recall to mind all the sacred associations."
"I'm mighty sorry," replied Blake. "If only that meant to me what it does to you, I might risk it. I'm no blatant atheist or anti-religionist. I'm simply agnostic; I don't believe. That's all. You have faith. I haven't. I didn't wish to get rid of my faith. It just went."