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The Damnation of Theron Ware by Harold Frederic
page 298 of 402 (74%)

"We were speaking of our respective religions," he heard Celia say, as
imperturbably as if there had been no digression worth mentioning.

"Yes," he assented, and moved his head so that he looked up at her back
hair, and the leaves high above, mottled against the sky. The wish
to lie there, where now he could just catch the rose-leaf line of her
under-chin as well, was very strong upon him. "Yes?" he repeated.

"I cannot talk to you like that," she said; and he sat up again
shamefacedly.

"Yes--I think we were speaking of religions--some time ago," he
faltered, to relieve the situation. The dreadful thought that she might
be annoyed began to oppress him.

"Well, you said whatever my religion was, it was yours too. That
entitles you at least to be told what the religion is. Now, I am a
Catholic."

Theron, much mystified, nodded his head. Could it be possible--was there
coming a deliberate suggestion that he should become a convert? "Yes--I
know," he murmured.

"But I should explain that I am only a Catholic in the sense that its
symbolism is pleasant to me. You remember what Schopenhauer said--you
cannot have the water by itself: you must also have the jug that it is
in. Very well; the Catholic religion is my jug. I put into it the things
I like. They were all there long ago, thousands of years ago. The Jews
threw them out; we will put them back again. We will restore art and
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