'Are they?' Prudence's eyes mused. 'Oh, I dare say they're clever enough to know. But, Warren, I have a feeling about them--it came to me in the middle of lunch, quite suddenly--that they _don't_ know; that, somehow, either because they are made so, or because they've missed their chances, they know--well, really very little indeed about themselves and how they stand. And that--if that's so--makes it worse; because, do you see, if we accepted them, they would take it naturally, and be content to be accepted; and all the time there would be all kinds of things between us, that we knew of and that they didn't. That would be ugly. Don't you see? But if we don't accept them, the things between don't matter; it's all right and fair.' 'Well, it may be. Anyhow, if that's what mother would call your "mental standpoint," I'm a little sorry for Miss Crevequer. It will be an embarrassing sitting--except that I can't quite imagine either of you embarrassed.... Personally, you know, they amuse me quite a lot.' 'Oh, well, as to that----' The twinkle came to the front of the grey eyes. * * * * * The Crevequers, lounging about Santa Lucia that evening, had their own comments to make. They were a little puzzled. 'Why _not_ be a Catholic?' Tommy pondered, with knitted forehead. 'What else should a man be? Why is it funnier than to be a heretic, or a Jew, or a Buddhist? Perhaps those things _are_ interesting, though, if once one begins thinking about them. We aren't interested in enough things, Betty. Let's study agnostics, and begin with Mrs. Venables. We'll ask her how she feels in church, and say "this is most impressive," as she does. Do agnostics go to church, at least?' 'She does. She watches the devout worshippers. We must think of some nice striking things to tell her, Tommy. She likes that, and we ought to do it, as they've been so kind to us--about how the contadini round Baja still pray to Pan, and things of that sort, that foreigners always like to hear. Would she take that, do you think? No, not quite, perhaps--rather risky. It was very nice of them to lend us both money; and they won't be in a hurry, I should think. I shall rather like to sit to Miss Varley; she's nice to look at, don't you think? She doesn't say very much, but then I can do that.' 'Well, I call them all rather decent,' Tommy said. They stood for a little and listened to the soft sound of the little night waves scraping the shingle, and looked over the still, dark bay, cut across by the golden road of the three-quarter moon, to where the pine-shaped column above Vesuvius hung and blazed intermittently. 'Something ominous in that sign that the sleeping monster still lives,' murmured Betty. Then, in answer to a questioning stare, 'Not my own--Mrs. Venables. Tommy, I'm sleepy; let's go to bed.' 'No,' said Tommy--'supper at Brunati's. We'll find some one to have it with us.' Betty looked dubious.