“Well, just answer me this much,” I pleaded: “Do you think Catholics are all certain to be damned?”
“Good gracious! I don’t believe one of them will be damned. Not the good ones, at any rate—not such as you, Lilly!” replied Sybil with extraordinary vehemence.
“Then why, in the name of wonder, should you have such a horror of any one becoming a Catholic?” I asked.
“Why? Why, because it’s a dreadful thing to ... change one’s religion, and the Roman Catholic religion is full of superstitions, of mistakes of all sorts.... But look! I declare that’s Mr. Halsted on the other side of the street, and he sees us and is coming across!”
“In time to rescue you from metaphysics,” I said. “I hope he won’t stand and speak to us; do you think he will?”
“I won’t let him; I’ll make him walk on at once with us,” said Sybil.
“O Sybil!” I cried, “you must not do that; mamma would be very angry if I were seen walking with him alone.”
“What nonsense! You’re not alone; I'm here,” said Sybil.
“You don’t count,” I said; “you know you don’t.”
“Well, you talk of being complimentary,” protested Sybil, “but that beats all I ever said in the way of polite compliments.”