Suddenly she became aware of a new presence, something external, in front of her, consummated and expressed in warm red tracery. Then she knew. It was the window of St. Francis Xavier. Her mind gripped at it, clung to it finally, and she felt herself calling again endlessly, impotently--Kieth--Kieth! Then out of a great stillness came a voice: "BLESSED BE GOD." With a gradual rumble sounded the response rolling heavily through the chapel: "Blessed be God." The words sang instantly in her heart; the incense lay mystically and sweetly peaceful upon the air, and THE CANDLE ON THE ALTAR WENT OUT. "Blessed be His Holy Name." "Blessed be His Holy Name." Everything blurred into a swinging mist. With a sound half-gasp, half-cry she rocked on her feet and reeled backward into Kieth's suddenly outstretched arms. V "Lie still, child." She closed her eyes again. She was on the grass outside, pillowed on Kieth's arm, and Regan was dabbing her head with a cold towel. "I'm all right," she said quietly. "I know, but just lie still a minute longer. It was too hot in there. Jarvis felt it, too." She laughed as Regan again touched her gingerly with the towel. "I'm all right," she repeated. But though a warm peace was falling her mind and heart she felt oddly broken and chastened, as if some one had held her stripped soul up and laughed. VI Half an hour later she walked leaning on Kieth's arm down the long central path toward the gate. "It's been such a short afternoon," he sighed, "and I'm so sorry you were sick, Lois." "Kieth, I'm feeling fine now, really; I wish you wouldn't worry." "Poor old child. I didn't realize that Benediction'd be a long service for you after your hot trip out here and all." She laughed cheerfully. "I guess the truth is I'm not much used to Benediction. Mass is the limit of my religious exertions." She paused and then continued quickly: "I don't want to shock you, Kieth, but I can't tell you how--how INCONVENIENT being a Catholic is. It really doesn't seem to apply any more. As far as morals go, some of the wildest boys I know are Catholics. And the brightest boys--I mean the ones who think and read a lot, don't seem to believe in much of anything any more." "Tell me about it. The bus won't be here for another half-hour." They sat down on a bench by the path. "For instance, Gerald Carter, he's published a novel. He absolutely roars when people mention immortality. And then Howa--well, another man I've known well, lately, who was Phi Beta Kappa at Harvard says that no intelligent person can believe in Supernatural Christianity. He says Christ was a great socialist, though. Am I shocking you?" She broke off suddenly. Kieth smiled. "You can't shock a monk. He's a professional shock-absorber." "Well," she continued, "that's about all. It seems so--so NARROW. Church schools, for instance. There's more freedom about things that Catholic people can't see--like birth control."