business to know."

"We all want to know," said Lady Sunderbund, speaking from the low chair
on the other side of the fireplace. There was a vibration in her voice
and a sudden gleam of enthusiasm in her face. "Why shouldn't people talk
se'iously sometimes?"

"Well, take my own case," said Hoppart. "In the last few weeks, I've
been reading not only in the Bible but in the Fathers. I've read most of
Athanasius, most of Eusebius, and--I'll confess it--Gibbon. I find all
my old wonder come back. Why are we pinned to--to the amount of creed we
are pinned to? Why for instance must you insist on the Trinity?"

"Yes," said the Eton boy explosively, and flushed darkly to find he had
spoken.

"Here is a time when men ask for God," said Hoppart. "And you give them
three!" cried Bent rather cheaply. "I confess I find the way encumbered
by these Alexandrian elaborations," Hoppart completed.

"Need it be?" whispered Lady Sunderbund very softly.

"Well," said the bishop, and leant back in his armchair and knitted his
brow at the fire. "I do not think," he said, "that men coming to God
think very much of the nature of God. Nevertheless," he spoke slowly
and patted the arm of his chair, "nevertheless the church insists that
certain vitally important truths have to be conveyed, certain mortal
errors are best guarded against, by these symbols."

"You admit they are symbols."