there are other things I should like to have you hear."

Amarilly solemnly accepted this invitation, and then went home,
trundling a big cart which contained the surplices and the rectory
laundry.

Colette's remarks, so innocently repeated to him, made John take himself
to task.

"I knew," he thought rapturously, "that she was pure gold at heart. And
it is only her sweet willfulness that is hiding it from me."

That evening he found Colette sitting before an open fire in the
library, her slender little feet crossed before the glowing blaze. She
was in a gentle, musing mood, but at his entrance she instantly rallied
to her old mirth-loving spirit.

"I have made Amarilly's acquaintance," he said. "She is coming to church
next Sunday."

"A convert already! And you will try to snatch poor Amarilly, too, from
her footlight dreams?"

"Colette," he replied firmly, "you can't play a part with me any longer.
You, the real Colette, made it unnecessary for me to remonstrate with
Amarilly on her choice of professions. She is wavering because of your
assurance that there are better things in life for her to engage in."

He was not very tall, but stood straight and stalwart, with the air of
one born to command. At times he seemed to tower above all others.