"Ye-e-s; has that effect. You'd notice her eyes." If Philip had been
frank he would have answered,

"I don't know. She's simply adorable," and Celia would have understood
all about it.

"And probably doesn't know anything. Yes, highly educated? I heard
that. But I'm getting tired of 'highly educated'; I see so many of them.
I've been making them now for years. Perhaps I'm one of them. And where
am I? Don't interrupt. I tell you it is a relief to come across a
sweet, womanly ignoramus. What church does she go to?"

"Who?"

"That Mavick girl."

"St. Thomas', I believe."

"That's good--that's devotional. I suppose you go there too, being
brought up a Congregationalist?"

"At vespers, sometimes. But, Celia, what is the matter with you?
I thought you didn't care--didn't care to belong to anything?"

"I? I belong to everything. Didn't I write you reams about my studies
in psychology? I've come to one conclusion. There are only two persons
in the world who stand on a solid foundation, the Roman Catholic and the
Agnostic. The Roman Catholic knows everything, the Agnostic doesn't know
anything."