"That you would love and worship at any wayside shrine; that the spirit of devotion was not in you."
"And you believed?"
She nodded.
"It seemed so. I have thought so. Once a few feet away and you are wondering!"
The young man was guiltily silent.
"And I am merely a wayside chapel, good for an idle prayer."
"Make it perpetual."
Her arm was heavy.
"Caspar wants you—away. He will try to arrange it. Perhaps you will yield, and I shall lose."
"You mean he will make them recall me."