“You must not do it for me, but for what makes me do it. Without that our life, our work, could have no consecration.”
She gazed at him in patient, faintly smiling bewilderment, as if it were something he would unriddle for her when he chose.
“We mustn't err in this; it would be worse than error; it would be sin.” He took a turn about the room, and then stopped before her. “Will you—will you join me in a prayer for guidance, Clementina?”
“I—I don't know,” she hesitated. “I will, but—do you think I had betta?”
He began, “Why, surely”—After a moment he asked gravely, “You believe that our actions will be guided aright, if we seek help?”
“Oh, yes—yes—”
“And that if we do not, we shall stumble in our ignorance?”
“I don't know. I never thought of that.”
“Never thought of it—”
“We never did it in our family. Father always said that if we really wanted to do right we could find the way.” Gregory looked daunted, and then he frowned darkly. “Are you provoked with me? Do you think what I have said is wrong?”