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- selves together in a billowy mass once more.
Worshippers cross themselves before the altar and go out. The Communion bread is taken and the service is over. The waifs march out; we all come out.
It is good to have been at prayers with the sisters, just as if one had spent a few hours in perfect mood in a garden. It took my mind back to a morning in an immense London church when I came in late and was taken up and put in a seat just underneath a picture of the Virgin. At the Virgin's feet were armfuls of lilies. I had a sense, I have it now—all flowers are flowers at the feet of the Virgin.
