beating the palm of one hand with the back of the other.

"What did she do? How did she take it?" asked Maria Dolores.

"What she ought to have done," said John, between his teeth, "was to
scratch his eyes out. What she did do, as he informed me with a seraphic
countenance, was not merely to approve of everything he said, but to
determine to do likewise. So, while he's on his way to Rome, to get
himself tonsured and becassocked, she's scrubbing the floors of an
Ursuline convent, as a novice. And there are two lives spoiled." He
shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, no, no," contended Maria Dolores, earnestly, shaking her head, "not
spoiled. On the contrary. It is sad, in a way, if you like, but it is
very beautiful, it is heroic. Their love must have been a very beautiful
love, that could lead them to such self-sacrifice. Two lives given to
God."

"Can't people give their lives to God without ceasing to _live_?" cried
John. "If marriage is a sacrament, how can they better give their lives
to God than by living sanely and sweetly in Christian marriage? But
these people withdraw from life, renounce life, shirk and evade the life
that God had prepared for them and was demanding of them. It's as bad as
suicide. Besides, it implies such a totally perverted view of religion.
Religion surely is given to us to help us to _live_, to show us _how_ to
live, to enable us to meet the difficulties, emergencies,
responsibilities of life. But these people look upon their religion as
a mandate to turn their backs on the responsibilities of life, and
scuttle away. And as for _love_! Well, she no doubt did love, poor lady.
But Winthorpe! No. When a man loves he doesn't send his love into a