One day Mary decided that it was her duty to speak with James about his religion. Some of his remarks had made her a little uneasy, and he was quite strong enough now to be seriously dealt with.
"Tell me, Jamie," she said, in reply to an observation which she was pleased to consider flippant, "you do believe in God, don't you?"
But James had learnt his lesson well.
"My dear, that seems to me a private affair of my own."
"Are you ashamed to say?" she asked, gravely.
"No; but I don't see the advantage of discussing the matter."
"I think you ought to tell me as I'm going to be your wife. I shouldn't like you to be an atheist."
"Atheism is exploded, Mary. Only very ignorant persons are certain of what they cannot possibly know."
"Then I don't see why you should be afraid to tell me."
"I'm not; only I think you have no right to ask. We both think that in marriage each should leave the other perfect freedom. I used to imagine the ideal was that married folk should not have a thought, nor an idea apart; but that is all rot. The best thing is evidently for each to go his own way, and respect the privacy of the other. Complete trust entails complete liberty."