“They have applied for leave,” said the monk shortly. “In two years I shall be a priest, no doubt, if God wills.”
“You are happy?” asked the other.
Chris made a little gesture.
“I do not know what that means,” he said, “but I know I have done right. I feel nothing. God’s ways and His world are too strange.”
The priest looked at him oddly, without speaking.
“Well, father?” asked Chris, smiling.
“You are right,” said the chaplain brusquely. “You have done well. You have crossed the border.”
Chris felt the blood surge in his temples.
“The border?” he asked.
“The border of dreams. They surround the Religious Life; and you have passed through them.”