well that Father Peter had died, his friend, his benefactor, the man in
whose house he was living? Of course not. Then it was strange he could
not keep the thought out of his mind that Father Peter's death had saved
the parish from a great scandal, for if Nora had been dismissed he might
have found himself obliged to leave the parish.

Again he turned on himself and asked how such thoughts could come into
his mind. True, the coming of a thought into the consciousness is often
unexpected, but if the thought were not latent in the mind, it would
not arise out of the mind; and if Father Peter knew the base thoughts he
indulged in--yes, indulged in, for he could not put them quite out of
his mind--he feared very much that the gift of all this furniture
might--No, he was judging Father Peter ill: Father Peter was
incapable of a mean regret.

But who was he, he'd like to be told, that he should set himself up as
Father Peter's judge? The evil he had foreseen had happened. If Father
Peter felt that Nora Glynn was not the kind of schoolmistress the parish
required, should he not send her away? The need of the parish, of the
many, before the one. Moreover, Father Peter was under no obligation
whatsoever to Nora Glynn. She had been sent down by the School Board
subject to his approval. 'But my case is quite different. I chose her; I
decided that she was to remain.' And he asked himself if his decision
had come about gradually. No, he had never hesitated, but dismissed
Father Peter's prejudices as unworthy.... The church needed some good
music. But did he think of the church? Hardly at all. His first
consideration was his personal pleasure, and he wished that the best
choir in the diocese should be in his church, and Nora Glynn enabled him
to gratify his vanity. He made her his friend, taking pleasure in her
smiles, and in the fact that he had only to express a desire for it to