There had been, too, about their friendship a rather engaging seriousness. They had talked a great deal of futures. They had dreamed together very great dreams. Their dreams had, of course, changed from time to time. There had been that dream of Becky's when she first went to the convent, that she wanted some day to be a nun like Sister Loretto. The fact that it would involve a change of faith was thrashed over flamingly by Randy. "It is all very well for an old woman, Becky. But you'd hate it."
Becky had been sure that she would not hate it. "You don't know how lovely she looks in the chapel."
"Well, there are other ways to look lovely."
"But it would be nice to be—good."
"You are good enough."
"I am not really, Randy. Sister Loretto says her prayers all day——"
"How often do you say yours?"
"Oh, at night. And in the mornings—sometimes——"
"That's enough for anybody. If you say them hard enough once, what more can the Lord ask?"