She stopped in sheer amazement and stared at her nephew. Bill was in a mood to throw caution to the winds.
"I'll agree with you she's safe enough," he said, "but for the love of Mike cut out that bull about Pete. He hasn't got any more principles than I have. I'm sick and tired of hearing you singing psalms about him."
Aunt Caroline gasped.
"Why, confound him, he hasn't any more religion than a fish. He never studied theology in his life."
"William, I don't believe a word you say."
"You might as well," said Bill scornfully. "Why, Aunt Caroline, he doesn't know any more about theology than you do about dancing the shimmy."
"But he talked to Bishop Wrangell——"
"Oh, he talked, all right. He's a bird at that. But it was just words, I tell you, words. He got it all out of the encyclopedia home. He's been stringing you—you and the bishop. That's just where he lives—stringing people."
"I—don't—believe—it!" But there was a trace of alarm in Aunt Caroline's voice, despite her brave insistence.
"Oh, all right; don't. But if you'd ever known that wild aborigine in college you wouldn't swallow that theology stuff, hook, line and sinker."