Part 2
"Now," said Ann Veronica, after the half-hour of exercise, and
sitting on the uncomfortable wooden seat without a back that was
her perch by day, "it's no good staying here in a sort of maze.
I've got nothing to do for a month but think. I may as well
think. I ought to be able to think things out.
"How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do
with myself? . . .
"I wonder if many people HAVE thought things out?
"Are we all just seizing hold of phrases and obeying moods?
"It wasn't so with old-fashioned people, they knew right from
wrong; they had a clear-cut, religious faith that seemed to
explain everything and give a rule for everything. We haven't.
I haven't, anyhow. And it's no good pretending there is one when
there isn't. . . . I suppose I believe in God. . . . Never
really thought about Him--people don't. . . . I suppose my creed
is, 'I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty,
substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague
sentimentality that doesn't give a datum for anything at all, in
Jesus Christ, His Son.' . . .
"It's no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe
when one doesn't. . . .
"And as for praying for faith--this sort of monologue is about as
near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. Aren't I
asking--asking plainly now? . . .
"We've all been mixing our ideas, and we've got intellectual hot
coppers--every blessed one of us. . . .
"A confusion of motives--that's what I am! . . .
"There is this absurd craving for Mr. Capes--the 'Capes crave,'
they would call it in America. Why do I want him so badly? Why
do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from
him?
"It isn't all of me.
"The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself--get hold
of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica's soul. . .
."
She knelt upon the floor of her cell and clasped her hands, and
remained for a long time in silence.
"Oh, God!" she said at last, "how I wish I had been taught to
pray!"
