They talked for a while of childish days, each capping the other's evocation of those hours that now in retrospect appeared like the gay pictures of an old book long ago lost, and found again on an idle afternoon. They talked too of Margaret and whether she would marry Richard; and presently, without the obvious transition that would have made her silent, Pauline found that they were discussing Guy and herself. "I notice he doesn't come to church now so much as he did," said Monica. Pauline was startled by an abrupt statement of something which among all the other worries she had never defined to herself, but which now that Monica revealed its shape she knew had occupied a dark corner at the back of her mind more threatening than any of the rest. Of course she began at once to make excuses for Guy, but her sister, who brought to religion the same scrupulous temperament she gave to her music, would not admit their validity. "Don't you ever ask him why he hasn't been?" she persisted. "Oh, of course not. Why, I couldn't, Monica. I should never feel ... oh, no, Monica, it would really be impossible for me to talk to Guy about his faith." "His faith seems rather to have frozen lately," said Monica. "He's been upset and disappointed." "All the more reason for going to church," Monica argued. "Yes, for you, darling, or for me; but Guy may be different." "There's no room for moods in one's religious duties. The artistic temperament is not provided for." That serene and nun-like conviction of tone made Pauline feel a little rebellious, and yet in its corroboration of her own uneasiness she could not laugh it aside. "Well, even if there's no excuse for him and even supposing it made me dreadfully anxious," she affirmed, "I still wouldn't say a word to him." "Does he know you go to Confession?" Pauline blushed. Monica was like a Roman Catholic in the matter-of-fact way in which she alluded to something that for Pauline pierced such sanctities as could scarcely even be mentioned by herself to her own soul. "Monica, you don't really think that I ought to speak of that," she stammered. Not even to her sister could she bring herself to utter the sacramental word. "I certainly think you should," said Monica. "When you and Guy are married it would be terrible if your duties were to be the cause of a disagreement. Why, he might even persuade you to give up going to Confession." "Darling Monica," said Pauline nervously, "I'd rather you didn't talk about this any more. You see, you're so much better than I and you've thought so much more deeply than I have about religion. I don't think I shall ever be able to make my faith so narrow a ... so strict a rule as yours is. No, please, Monica, don't let us talk about this subject any more." "I only mentioned it because I'm afraid that with your beautiful nature you will be too merciful to that Guy of yours."