“You funny child! When you don’t care tuppence about it!” Rodney laughed at her. “I dropped it; that’s better said. I don’t believe in it. They tried to control me in matters of my personal rights as a man. They would interfere with me now if they could. They will with you, if you let ’em. They’ll ruin your life, my Cicely. All wrong, all wrong! I want you to drop it, too. Cicely, believe me, it will warp you, destroy your God-given instincts and desires; ruin your life, Cis! I am free now to do as seems good to me; I want you to be free with me. I believe there’s a God, though I never heard anyone prove it who tried to, but I believe it. You keep your faith in Him, if you want to, but drop this Church business, with its laws. Cicely, I am afraid, _afraid_, I tell you, to think of your sticking blindly to all that! Let it go. You needn’t abjure it, do anything formal, but let it go. Go around to lectures, Sundays, or, what’s better, come with me out into clean, still places and we’ll read the poets and philosophers, and have music--I play the violin fairly well, Holly, dear; you haven’t heard me--yet! Drop it, Cis, for both our sakes, I beg of you! This is one of the things I brought you here to-day to say. I’ve studied; I know the thing from top to bottom. Nonsense!” “Why do you care so much, Rod? You look half wild when you speak of it. Why do you care? What difference would it make to you if I kept on in my half-way Catholicity?” Cis asked more puzzled than impressed by his plea. “Why do I care?” Rodney burst out, then checked himself. “Oh, Cicely, because it separates us! Child, you don’t know; I do! As sure as the sun rises and sets it will break your heart and plunge me into wretchedness and despair if you continue, even in your half-way, as you call it. There is no half-way. Either you are a Roman Catholic, or you’re not. You may be a cold one, or a hot one, but one you are, unless you drop it wholly. It is a barrier between us.” “Rod, what foolishness!” cried Cis. “We shall be--friends--whether I’m in or out of the Church. Am I narrow-minded; are you? And if I were good you might come back!” “Not I! Never!” cried Rodney. “Cis, my Holly, my bright, hope-giving, joy-giving Christmas Holly, you’ve done for me what I never thought could be done! I was wretched, and you have healed me. Will you plunge me down again?” “No, Rod; I couldn’t do that,” Cis said simply, softly. “I don’t see how being a Catholic could do that, but if it did--” “You’d give it up?” Rodney eagerly interrupted her. “I don’t say that,” Cis spoke with slow consideration, weighing her words. “I don’t see how I’d ever be able--But I couldn’t hurt you either, Rod! Can’t it just go on? I’m not one bit pious; I don’t see how it could bother you if I went to Mass Sundays, and once in a long while to confession?”