"Heaven forbid! I am very sorry to have been guilty of such ill-manners."
"In a measure you atoned for it afterwards. When I got up to offer you my thanks, I was thinking of the best part of your lecture—that where you spoke of girls being entrapped into monstrous marriages. That was generous, and splendidly put. It seemed to me that you must have had cases in mind."
For the second time Denzil was unable to meet the steely gaze. He looked away and laughed.
"Oh, of course I had; who hasn't—that knows anything of the world? But," he changed the subject, "don't you find it rather dull, living in a place like Polterham?"
"I have my work here."
"Work?—the work of propagandism?"
"Precisely. It would be pleasant enough to live in London, and associate with people of my own way of thinking; but what's the good?—there's too much of that centralization. The obscurantists take very good care to spread themselves. Why shouldn't those who love the light try to keep little beacons going in out-of-the-way places?"
"Well, do you make any progress?"
"Oh, I think so. The mere fact of my existence here ensures that. I dare say you have heard tell of me, as the countryfolk say?"
The question helped Denzil to understand why Mrs. Wade was content with Polterham. He smiled.