He had marched into Jack's rooms in Jesus Lane one morning nearly a fortnight ago.
"Come to mass at the Catholic Church," he said.
"Why, the--" began Jack.
"I've got to go.

I'm a Catholic." "_What!_" "I became one last week." Jack had stared at him, suddenly convinced that someone was mad.

When he had verified that it was really a fact; that Frank had placed himself under instruction three months before, and had made his confession--( his confession!)--on Friday, and had been conditionally baptized; when he had certified himself of all these things, and had begun to find coherent language once more, he had demanded why Frank had done this.
"Because it's the true religion," said Frank.

"Are you coming to mass or are you not ?" Jack had gone then, and had come away more bewildered than ever as to what it was all about.

He had attempted to make a few inquiries, but Frank had waved his hands at him, and repeated that obviously the Catholic religion was the true one, and that he couldn't be bothered.
And now here they were at tea in Jesus Lane for the last time.
* * * * * Of course, there was a little suppressed excitement about Frank.