“He did right. A clergyman ought to look different from other men. I do not believe Basil Stanhope, having assumed the dress of a servant of God, would put it off one hour for any social exigency. Why should he? It is a grander attire than any military or naval uniform, and no court dress is comparable, for it is the court dress of the King of kings.”
“All right, dear Granny; you always make things clear to me, yet I meet lots of clergymen in evening dress.”
“Then they ought not to be clergymen. They ought not to wear coats in which they can hold any kind of opinions. Who was your companion?”
“Jamie Sayer.”
“I never heard of the man.”
“He is an artist, and is painting Dora’s likeness. He is getting on now, but in the past, like all artists, he has suffered a deal.”
“God’s will be done. Let them suffer. It is good for genius to suffer. Is he in love with you?”
“Gracious, Granny! His head is so full of pictures that no woman could find room there, and if one did, the next new picture would crowd her out.”
“End that story, it is long enough.”
“Do you know Miss Ullman?”