"I can't understand these morbid fancies of yours. What have you been doing in Oxford? Ah, I know," he shouted in a rage of sudden divination. "You've been talking to a priest.... Oh, if I could burn every interfering scoundrel who...." The scene swept over him, choking the words in his throat with indignant impotent jealousy. "You've been to Confession. And what good have you got from it, but lies, lies?" "I've always been to Confession," Pauline answered coldly. In a flash Guy visualized her religious life as one long creeping toward a gloomy Confessional where lurked a smooth-faced priest who poured his poison into her ears. "You shall go no more," he vowed. "What right have you to drag the holiness of love in the mud of a priest's mind?" "You don't know how stupidly you're talking," said Pauline. "You say I exaggerate. You don't know how much you are exaggerating. You don't understand." "I thought you wanted me to have faith! How can I have faith when I hear of priests degrading our love. What right had you to go to a priest? What does he know of you or me? What has he suffered? What does he understand? Why do you listen to him and pay no heed to me? What did you say?" Pauline looked at him in silence. "What did you say?" he repeated angrily. He was caring for nothing at that moment but to tear from her the history of the scene that made a furnace of his brain. "He must have tried to put the idea into your head that you've been doing wrong. I say you have done nothing wrong. I suppose you told him you came out at night with me on the river and I suppose he concluded from that ... oh, Pauline, I cannot let you be a prey to the mind of a priest. You don't realize what it means to me. You don't realize the raging jealousy it rouses." "Guy," she moaned, "love is too much for me. I can't bear the uncertainty. Your debts ... the sending back of your poems ... the fear that we shall never be married ... the doubts ... the thought that I've deceived my family ... the misery I bring to you because I can't think everything is right...." "I don't want you always to agree with me. I've promised never to ask you again to come out with me at night. I'll even promise never to kiss you again, until we are married. But you must promise me never again to go to Confession." "I can't give up what I believe is right," she said. "Then I won't give up what I believe is right."