"You must behave like other people if you expect them to like you." "I don't expect them. How do I behave?" "It isn't exactly behaving. It's more the way you talk and look at people. As if you saw slap through them. Or else as if you didn't see them at all. That's worse. People don't like it." "Anything else?" "Yes. It was cheeky of you to tell Mademoiselle that those French verses didn't rhyme." "But they didn't." "Who cares?" "I care. I care frightfully." "There you go. That's exactly what I mean," Rose said. "Who cares if you care? And there's another thing. You're worrying Miss Lambert. This school of hers has got a name for sound religious teaching. You may not like sound religious teaching, but she's got fifteen of us to look after besides you. If you want to be an atheist, go and be it by yourself." "I'm not an atheist." "Well, whatever silly thing you are. You mustn't talk about it to the girls. It isn't fair," Rose said. "All right. I won't." "On your honour?" "On my honour." V. A three-cornered note on her dressing-table at bed-time: Sept. 20th, 1878. Maison Dieu Lodge. "My dear Mary: Our talk was not satisfactory. Unless you can assure me by to-morrow morning that you believe in the Blessed Trinity and all the other truths of our most holy religion, I fear that, _much as we love you_, we dare not keep you with us, for your school-fellows' sake. "Think it over, my dear child, and let me know. Pray to God _to-night_ to change your heart and mind and give you His Holy Spirit. "Affectionately yours, "Henrietta Lambert." The Trinity. A three-cornered note. "My dear Miss Lambert: I am very sorry; but it really isn't any good, and if it was it couldn't be done in the time. You wouldn't like it if I told you lies, would you? That's why I can't join in the prayers and say the Creed and bow; in Church or anywhere. Rose made me promise not to talk about it, and I won't. "If you must send me away to-morrow morning, you must. But I'm glad you love me. I was afraid you didn't. "With love, your very affectionate "Mary Olivier." "P.S.--I've folded my clothes all ready for packing." To-morrow the clothes were put back again in their drawers. She wasn't going. Miss Lambert said something about Rose and Lucy and "kindness to poor Clara." VI. Rose Godwin told her that home-sickness wore off. It didn't. It came beating up and up, like madness, out of nothing. The French verbs, grey, slender as little verses on the page, the French verbs swam together and sank under the clear-floating images of home-sickness. Mamma's face, Roddy's, Dan's face. Tall trees, the Essex fields, flat as water, falling away behind them. Little feathery trees, flying low on the sky-line. Outside the hallucination the soiled light shut you in.