“Oh, religion!” Her tone set aside the subject as insusceptible of sufficient or satisfactory answer. “I go through the forms,” she added, a little disdainfully. “As to what I believe and do—which is what one’s own religion is—why, I assume that if the game is worth playing at all, there must be a Judge and Maker of the Rules. As far as I understand them, I follow them.”
“You have a sort of religious feeling for success, though, haven’t you?” he reminded her slyly.
“Not at all. Just human, common sense.”
“But your creed as you’ve just given it, the rules of the game and that; that’s precisely the Bible formula, I believe.”
“How do you know?” she caught him up. “You haven’t a Bible in the place, so far as I’ve noticed.”
“No; I haven’t.”
“You should have.”
“Probably. But I can’t, somehow, adjust myself to that advice as coming from you.”
“Because you don’t understand what I’m getting at. It isn’t religious advice.”
“Then what is it?”