“Oh, I don't say that. I'm not competent to advise. But I should like to feel that I was doing something. I suppose it's hereditary.” Mavering stared a little. “One of my father's sisters has gone into a sisterhood. She's in England.”
“Is she a—Catholic?” asked Mavering.
“She isn't a Roman Catholic.”
“Oh yes!” He dropped forward on his knees again to help her tie the bunch she had finished. It was not so easy as the first.
“Oh, thank you!” she said, with unnecessary fervour.
“But you shouldn't like to go into a sisterhood, I suppose?” said Mavering, ready to laugh.
“Oh, I don't know. Why not?” She looked at him with a flying glance, and dropped her eyes.
“Oh, no reason, if you have a fancy for that kind of thing.”
“That kind of thing?” repeated Alice severely.
“Oh, I don't mean anything disrespectful to it,” said Mavering, throwing his anxiety off in the laugh he had been holding back. “And I beg your pardon. But I don't suppose you're in earnest.”