“Quite correct,” said Hirst.
“That’s all very interesting,” said Helen after a pause. “But of course we’ve left out the only questions that matter. For instance, are we Christians?”
“I am not,” “I am not,” both the young men replied.
“I am,” Rachel stated.
“You believe in a personal God?” Hirst demanded, turning round and fixing her with his eyeglasses.
“I believe—I believe,” Rachel stammered, “I believe there are things we don’t know about, and the world might change in a minute and anything appear.”
At this Helen laughed outright. “Nonsense,” she said. “You’re not a Christian. You’ve never thought what you are.—And there are lots of other questions,” she continued, “though perhaps we can’t ask them yet.” Although they had talked so freely they were all uncomfortably conscious that they really knew nothing about each other.
“The important questions,” Hewet pondered, “the really interesting ones. I doubt that one ever does ask them.”
Rachel, who was slow to accept the fact that only a very few things can be said even by people who know each other well, insisted on knowing what he meant.
“Whether we’ve ever been in love?” she enquired. “Is that the kind of question you mean?”