It was by his suggestion that they were there, and he had overruled her hesitation as to leaving Bunny with a masterly skill that had enlisted Bunny himself on his side.
So they had gone, like a sober married couple, as Maud said to herself, though the thought of Jake as her husband was somehow one that she invariably failed utterly to grasp. She herself found it impossible to give her undivided attention to the service with the perpetual consciousness of his presence at her side. She could not tear her mind from him. He came between her and her devotions.
And yet he himself seemed to be wholly absorbed. Not once did those watchful eyes stray in her direction. He followed the entire service with reverence and a steady concentration that she envied but could not emulate.
When it was over and they were walking back, he drew a deep breath and remarked: "That's the first time I've been in church, except for our wedding, for twenty years."
Maud looked at him in amazement. "So long as that?"
He nodded. "I used to go regularly till my mother died. After that, I went to sea and got out of the way of it."
There fell a silence upon his words. The colour that was always so quick to rise in Maud's cheeks spread upwards to her forehead.
It was with an evident effort that she said finally: "You haven't told me anything about your mother yet, Jake."
He turned his head slowly towards her. "It didn't strike me that you would care to hear," he said, with simplicity.
She conquered her embarrassment with difficulty, but her voice was curiously devoid of enthusiasm as she said: "I am interested--of course."