She turns upon him a small vivid face, alight with indignation.
"You support her," cries she.

"_You!_ Well, I shall tell you! I"-- defiantly--"I don't want to go to churches at all.

I want to go to _theatres_! There!" There is an awful silence.

Miss Majendie's face is a picture! If the girl had said she wanted to go to the devil instead of to the theatre, she could hardly have looked more horrified.

She takes a step forward, closer to Perpetua.
"Go to your room! And pray--_pray_ for a purer mind!" says she.