“I’m going to church, Athelny,” she said. “There’s nothing you’ll be wanting, is there?”
“Only your prayers, my Betty.”
“They won’t do you much good, you’re too far gone for that,” she smiled. Then, turning to Philip, she drawled: “I can’t get him to go to church. He’s no better than an atheist.”
“Doesn’t she look like Rubens’ second wife?”cried Athelny. “Wouldn’t she look splendid in a seventeenth-century costume? That’s the sort of wife to marry, my boy. Look at her.”