When weather or lassitude kept them at home on Sunday morning they read the service aloud.

Monica found the duty of listening rather grievous.
During the months that she was alone in London she had fallen into neglect of public worship; not from any conscious emancipation, but because her companions at the house of business never dreamt of entering a church, and their example by degrees affected her with carelessness.

At present she was glad of the pretext for escaping until dinner-time.
She went forth with the intention of deceiving her sisters, of walking to Clapham Common, and on her return inventing some sermon at a church the others never visited.

But before she had gone many yards conscience overcame her.

Was she not getting to be a very lax-minded girl?
And it was shameful to impose upon the two after their loving-kindness to her.
As usual, her little prayer-book was in her pocket.