as this could have stood in the way. It is not a prejudice,
darling--believe me!--it belongs, for me at any rate, to Catholic
obligation."

She took no notice of the hands. With her own she clung to the table
behind her.

"Why do you give so much to the Sisters? It is not right! They give a
very bad education!"

He stared at her. How pale she had grown--and this half-stifled
voice!----

"I think we must be the judges of that," he said, dropping his hands. "We
teach what we hold most important."

"Nobody like Sister Angela ought to teach!" she cried--"you give money to
bring pupils to Sister Angela. And she is not well trained. I never heard
anyone talk so ignorantly as she does to Augustina. And the children
learn nothing, of course--everyone says so."

"And you are so eager to listen to them?" he said, with sparkling eyes.
Then he controlled himself.

"But that is not the point. I humbly admit our teaching is not nearly so
good as it might be if we had larger funds to spend upon it. But the
point is that I have promised the money, and that a number of
arrangements--fresh teachers among them--are already dependent on it.
Dearest, won't you recognise my difficulties, and--and help me through
them?"