“I don’t suppose it does,” said Dick gently. “I think,” he went on presently, “judging by its effect on you, I would rather have your religion than any other.”
“I wish you would, then,” she rejoined eagerly. “For then you could never do wrong things and think they were right.”
“How shall I begin?”
“Go to church.”
“What church?”
“It doesn’t matter. Sister Agnes used to say that in every church in the world there was some good spoken to those who wanted to hear it.”
“I wonder what good Sister Agnes would have heard from old Staynes?”
“Something, you may be sure. Or, how would his wife be such a noble woman?”
More pleased by her ingenuousness than convinced by her arguments, Dick promised that he would go to church, to the delight of Freda, who thought she had secured a great moral victory.
They had forgotten the police, who were searching the house; they had forgotten the jealous Thurley; when again the old dog, half opening his eyes, gave a low growl of warning. Dick jumped up and faced the door. There was no enemy, but Barnabas Ugthorpe, wearing a very grave and troubled face.