"They like you awfully. You know little Jimmy, that kiddie who came in the other day who's always such a brick? Well, last night I went and sat with him a bit because he was in such pain. I told him where I was going to-day as a secret. What do you think he said about you?"
"I don't want to know," said Peter hastily.
"Well, you shall. He said if more parsons were like you, more men would go to church. What do you make of that, old Solomon?"
"It isn't true to start with. A few might come for a little, but they would soon fall off. And if they didn't, they'd get no good. I don't know what to say to them."
Julie threw away her cigarette-stump. "One sees a lot of human nature in hospitals, my boy," she said, "and it doesn't leave one with many illusions. But from what I've seen, I should say nobody does much good by talking."
"You don't understand," said Peter. "Look here, I shouldn't call you religious in a way at all Don't be angry. I don't know, but I don't think so, and I don't think you can possibly know what I mean."
"I used to do the flowers in church regularly at home," she said. "I believe in God, though you think I don't."
Peter sighed. "Let's change the subject," he said. "Have you seen any more of that Australian chap lately?"
"Rather! He's engaged to a girl I know, and I reckon I'm doing her a good turn by sticking to him. He's a bit of a devil, you know, but I think I can keep him off the French girls a bit."
Peter looked at her curiously. "You know what he is, and you don't mind then?" he said.