Mr. Miles did not count this conclusive as to girls in general, though he forbore to say so. He seldom argued with a woman.
"And if ever I had screwed up my courage to the point of wanting an interview with a clergyman, and had been turned away, I should never have gone again."
"I see. Who is it?"
"One of the Royston girls. The red-haired one."
"She has asked for me?"
"She brings a packet from her father; and she said—might she give it herself?"
"All right. Send her here."
A very clear sense came over the Vicar that he had had this girl not only in his thoughts but in his prayers.
"My dear—the grass is wet."
"Nothing but dew. It's delicious."