He just hesitated. She herself appeared to acknowledge no bar to their
further intimacy--why should he?

"I will tell you all I know," he said.

Suddenly, as if by a transference of thought, she voiced what he had in
mind.

"You are going to tell them the truth about themselves!" she exclaimed.
"--That they are not Christians!"

His silence was an admission.

"You must see," he told her, after the moment they had looked into each
other's faces, "that this is the main reason why I must stay at St.
John's, in the Church, if I conscientiously can."

"I see. The easier course would be to resign, to have scruples. And you
believe there is a future for the Church."

"I believe it," he assented.

She still held his eyes.

"Yes, it is worth doing. If you see it that way it is more worth doing
than anything else. Please don't think," she said, "that I don't
appreciate why you have told me all this, why you have given me your
reasons. I know it hasn't been easy. It's because you wish me to have
faith in you for my own sake, not for yours. And I am grateful."