After many more entreaties and the shedding of many tears, I finally said to these two "holy scheming-spirits" of the Roman Catholic system, "I am out, and I am out to stay. If you want someone back, go and take Sister Zita back or some of the other sisters who are sitting in the four corners of the community-world doing penance." (Sister Zita was a poor sister who had left the community for about the same reasons I had left, after serving the church for thirty years. She had begged the system to take her back, but they absolutely refused to do so. Sister Zita told me this herself, together with some of the terrible wrongs that had been perpetrated upon her.) When they were convinced that I could not be persuaded to return, they then wanted my garb, saying that it did not belong to me. I said that I had worn it long enough, and that I thought I was entitled to keep it. Mother Nazareth then said, "The community might DEMAND it." I answered, "DEMAND! That is the word that has put me where I am, DEMAND. You DEMAND!" (This conversation led to the naming of my book.) At last they were beaten and did not know what course to pursue. Finally, Mother Nazareth said, "What will we tell Archbishop Christie?" I said, "Tell him the truth; tell him what has taken place in this room," and with that they left. On April 9th, "Father" Carti, a Jesuit priest from the Gonzaga College, came to see me. He had been sent to me by the community in regard to the amount that I had asked in the last letter I had written them. He told me that the community could not give the two thousand dollars, as other sisters would leave and want the same, but that they might give me one thousand dollars. He then asked me to return to the convent, saying that I did not have dispensation, and that my being out like this could _not_ be so, and that I was not out in the world. I looked around to assure myself that I was really out, and said, "Well, I _am_ out, and I am out to stay." He tried to convince me that I was in honor bound to go to some religious house till I would be released from my vows by the church, naming several Roman Catholic institutions, lastly, the House of the Good Shepherd. I looked at him in scorn and repeated, "The House of the Good Shepherd?" as the sisters of the order of Sisters of Charity always had a horror for the very name "House of the Good Shepherd." When he saw how I felt over this, he very quickly offered me a home at the Gonzaga College, although that is a Jesuit institution and, as a general rule, women are not allowed there. When all his efforts had failed, he said, in a cunning manner, that as I had trouble in the community, so I would now have trouble in the world.