He glanced at the belated group of worshippers gathered before the church
door, and became more than ever polite and chivalrous and protective.

"I must see you safely in," he said, and took up his stand beside her on
the mat.

Her eyes rested on him for a second in reproach, then dropped behind the
veil of their lids. In another moment he would have to go. He had already
surrendered her prayer-book, tucking it gently under her arm.

"You'll be all right when you get in, won't you?" he said encouragingly.

"Please go," she whispered.

"Do I jar, dear?" he asked sweetly.

"You do, very much."

"I'm so sorry. I won't do it again."

But his whispered vows and promises belied him, battling with her
consecrated mood. She felt that his innermost spirit remained in its
profanity, unillumined by her rebuke.

Once more she set her face, and hardened her heart against him, and
removed herself in the silence and isolation of her prayer.

Through the closed door there came the rich, confused murmur of the
Confession. He saw her lips curl, flower-like, with emotion, as her