The men were not at ease,--for some reason; they seized on every
trifle to keep off the subject which had brought them together.

"That girl's artist-sense is pure, and her religion, down under
the perversion and ignorance of her brain. Curious, eh?"

"Look at the top of her head, when you see her," said Holmes.
"It is necessity for such brains to worship. They let the fire
lick their blood, if they happen to be born Parsees. This girl,
if she had been a Jew when Christ was born, would have known him
as Simeon did."

Knowles said nothing,--only glanced at the massive head of the
speaker, with its overhanging brow, square development at the
sides, and lowered crown, and smiled significantly.

"Exactly," laughed Holmes, putting his hand on his head.
"Crippled there by my Yorkshire blood,--my mother. Never mind;
outside of this life, blood or circumstance matters nothing."

They walked on slowly towards town. Surely there was nothing in
the bill-of-sale which the old man had in his pocket but a mere
matter of business; yet they were strangely silent about it, as
if it brought shame to some one. There was an embarrassed pause.
The Doctor went back to Lois for relief.

"I think it is the pain and want of such as she that makes them
susceptible to religion. The self in them is so starved and
humbled that it cannot obscure their eyes; they see God clearly."