"Have you ever been over one of those big factories? It would be rather interesting," Mark said, in a charitable endeavour to introduce some element of continuity into the conversation. Lady Rossiter at once seconded the attempt.
"I've always so wished to have an opportunity of that sort. I should like to know just how the poor factory hands live, and what the conditions of work really are in those great places."
"I don't suppose that Sharplington in Essex is on the same scale as London or Edinburgh," Mark suggested.
At which interesting initial stage of an interchange of views, Mr. Fuller suddenly disconcerted everybody by looking straight across the table at the almanack which hung upon the wall, and declaring with a sort of suppressed violence:
"Five thousand souls gained last year alone—The Church Mission Society."
Edna's pale skin absolutely flushed and she set her lips. Mark hastily bent down to pick up an imaginary handkerchief, and Miss Marchrose laughed.
"That's settled it," thought Julian. "Edna will never forgive her that laugh."
He saw no reason to reverse the judgment while his wife took her cool, kindly farewell of the Lady Superintendent.
"You must come out to Culmhayes one day. Of course, I know Saturday afternoons and Sundays are your only free times, so I never issue workday invitations. But I'm always so glad to see any of you, and you can just rest and do anything you please, and not feel obliged to make conversation."
Julian watched the recipient of these attentions rather curiously.