"I once was poor," said Madderley, "and I am bound to admit that the joke fell short of your expectations, Miss Carnaby."
Isabel helped herself to plovers' eggs. "I felt I was foolish at the time, and I prayed for more wisdom."
"It is always safe to pray for the inevitable," said the artist, "it strengthens faith without incommoding Providence."
"Having got wisdom, I now pray for the rest of life's good things, like Solomon—riches and honours and fine clothes, and horses and carriages en suite."
"I never pray for what I see in the shop-windows," said Madderley; "I choose what I think will suit me, and know that it will be put down in my bill."
Isabel's lip curled. "You are very bourgeois in your ideas."
"I don't think so; I am merely honest with myself, and do not call transactions providential which are merely commercial. The temple and the money-changers should be kept far apart."
"I think, Madderley, that you misunderstand Miss Carnaby," said Lord Wrexham, in his slow, kind way as he smiled indulgently upon Isabel, "she does not really mean that she would ask Providence for things with which her tradesman could supply her."
"Of course I shouldn't pray for what I could pay for," added Isabel.
The artist bowed. "If I have misunderstood Miss Carnaby I humbly beg her pardon. By the way," he continued, "I once heard a story of a very devout Cornish wrecker, who never retired to rest, without praying for a storm. That always appeals to my sense of humour."