"Jack, you're not a Catholic," she cried.
"I know. I told you that from the first. But we can arrange that; I'll do whatever is necessary. It's a nuisance, because I expect your people loathe the idea of your marrying a heretic as much as mine loathe the idea of my marrying a Catholic. Fortunately, we can ignore them."
"I could never marry a man who wasn't a Catholic."
She clutched wildly at the promise of escape, and Jack betrayed emotion for the first time in a gape of astonishment.
"But your own church—if you still call yourself a Catholic—doesn't go as far as that."
"I don't care. It should. It's lying to your soul, if you believe one thing and let children believe something else that you know to be false. There's no sympathy of spirit when each thinks the other wrong and sneers privately.... I can't talk about this, but you see now why I tried to stop you.... Jack, do take me home! I feel as if I couldn't stand any more!"
She turned convulsively and hurried back to the parapet of the loggia. Jack picked up a cigarette, which he regarded absently, frowning again.
"You could never marry a man who wasn't a Catholic?" he repeated.
"No. Jack, don't let's talk about this any more! If I'm to blame for making you unhappy.... Oh, try to forgive me! If you let me think I'd spoiled your life—— Please take me home."
He roused himself from contemplation of the gilt name and address on the cigarette and walked with her into the house.