Paul gave no sign, or he thought he did not. She studied him. The temptation to probe a little further was irresistible. "Miss Thornton's getting quite High Church," she said. "Her people are rather worried about it."
"Well," said Paul, rapidly mastering himself and speaking deliberately now, "I'm inclined to be High Church myself, come to that. The Catholic religion's rather wonderful, Madeline. Father Vassall thought I ought to be a Redemptorist."
"What's that?"
"A friar. A member of the religious order of the Redemptorists. They preach missions—a sort of Catholic evangelists."
"Is Father Vassall a Redemptorist?"
"Oh, no. He's a secular priest."
She nodded. "Yes, that's it. He isn't a monk or a friar, but he'd like you to be one. I know. I've heard father talk about it."
Paul detected the sneer. He was perfectly cool now. More than that, he was getting angry. But he still held her hand, and she noticed nothing. "Edith Thornton," he said, "is rather wonderful."
Madeline shifted a little. "Is she?" she questioned. "I can't say I know her very well. She's full of good works, of course. I expect she'd make a splendid wife for a curate. She'd rather like to marry a clergyman, Paul."
"Wouldn't you, Madeline?"