"No. But then your sense of duty is more elastic than Jake's. You never—probably—asked her to do anything she didn't want to do."
"Can't remember," said Saltash. "What did Jake want?"
Maud's smile lingered. "You'll laugh of course. But Jake is quite right, whatever you do. He wanted her to go to church with little Eileen and me this morning. She's only a child, you know, and he naturally took it for granted that she was going. We both did. But just at the last moment she absolutely refused, told him quite frankly that she was—an atheist."
Saltash's laugh had a sound half-mocking, half-exultant. "What said the worthy Jake to that? Stop! I know what he said. He said. 'You can call yourself by any fool name you please, but you've got to go to Church like a respectable citizen if I say so.' Wasn't that it?"
"Something like it," Maud admitted. "How did you know?"
"Oh, I know Jake," said Saltash dryly. "And what happened then? She refused?"
"Yes, she refused. She was frightened, but she refused. She looked as if she were going to run away, but in the end Jake went off with her to the stables saying they would go to-night. They were quite friends when I saw them again, but she had been crying, poor little thing. I wish I could help her, but somehow I can't get near enough. Jake seems to understand her best."
"Wonder if she will give in?" said Saltash.
They were passing through a shrubbery that led to the training-field, and there came the quick thud of hoofs galloping on short turf as they approached.
"I don't think there is much doubt about that," Maud said.