Mr. Glynn, who had followed with more measured tread, now mingled his
hearty bass voice in the conversation. His mental attitude was friendly,
but inquisitorial; as seemed to him to befit one charged with the cure
of souls. He proceeded to ask questions, beginning with inquiries
conventional and domestic, but verging presently on points of faith.
Babcock, to whom they were directly addressed, stood the ordeal well,
revealing himself as flattered, contrite, and zealous to avail himself
of the blessings of the church. He admitted that lately he had been lax
in his spiritual duties.

"We come every Sunday now," he said buoyantly, with a glance at Selma as
though to indicate that she deserved the credit of his reformation.

"The holy sacrament of marriage has led many souls from darkness into
light, from the flesh-pots of Egypt to the table of the Lord" Mr. Glynn
answered. "And you, my daughter," he added, meaningly, "guard well your
advantage."

It was agreeable to Selma that the clergymen seemed to appreciate her
superiority to her embarrassed husband, especially as she thought she
knew that in England women were not expected to have opinions of their
own. She wished to say something to impress him more distinctly with her
cleverness, for though she was secretly contemptuous of his ceremonials,
there was something impressive in his mandatory zeal. She came near
asking whether he held to the belief that it was wrong for a man to
marry his deceased wife's sister, which was the only proposition in
relation to the married state which occurred to her at the moment as
likely to show her independence, but she contented herself instead with
saying, with so much of Mrs. Taylor's spontaneity as she could reproduce