She came to look at the things with him.

Half they fascinated her. She was puzzled, interested, and antagonistic.

It was when she came to pictures of the Pieta that she burst out.

“I do think they're loathsome,” she cried.

“What?” he said, surprised, abstracted.

“Those bodies with slits in them, posing to be worshipped.”

“You see, it means the Sacraments, the Bread,” he said slowly.

“Does it,” she cried. “Then it's worse. I don't want to see your chest slit, nor to eat your dead body, even if you offer it to me. Can't you see it's horrible?”