moderate amount of society. She loved things. Quiet satisfaction
beamed from the gentle eyes on the choice silver of the dining-room, on
her blue antique china, on the costly, tasteful accessories of the
drawing-room, and, indeed, on all the well chosen appointments of the
quietly elegant home. Interest in her own person and its adornment had
been gradually diverted toward Winifred, whose beauty, grace of manner,
and accomplishments, were an unfailing joy. Now she sighed in quiet
gratitude to the vague deity known as Providence for Winifred's
peculiarly sweet gift. As to the sermon of the morning, she was one of
those hearers in whose mind a sermon and its application do not
necessarily go together.

Winifred felt two pairs of eyes upon her from across the table as her
mother talked to her in a voice not intended to interrupt the gentlemen
in their conversation. There were Hubert's eyes of darker brown than
her own and very searching, and the preacher's blue eyes that looked
inquiringly through rimless eye-glasses. She could think of no answer
to her mother, and so bent her eyes silently upon her plate, while a
flush rose to her temples. Mrs. Butterworth's rapturous "heavenly" was
in strong contrast to the conviction of godless insincerity which
filled her own heart.

Mercifully to her embarrassment her father began again:

"But do you not think, Mr. Bond, that we must take things as they are?
Granted that there is a great deal of unreality in the church, what are
we going to do about it? Can one man who sees the point work a
revolution in the whole church? Must we not just take conditions as
they are and make the best of them?"