"Why don't I desire Him then?—I don't."
"That is for you to find out."
"I do what I know to be right; even on your theory I ought to get on," said Faber, turning from him with a laugh.
"I think so too," replied Wingfold. "Go on, and prosper. Only, if there be untruth in you alongside of the truth—? It might be, and you are not awake to it. It is marvelous what things can co-exist in a human mind."
"In that case, why should not your God help me?"
"Why not? I think he will. But it may have to be in a way you will not like."
"Well, well! good night. Talk is but talk, whatever be the subject of it.—I beg your pardon," he added, shaking hands with the minister and his daughter; "I did not see you come in. Good night."
"I won't allow that talk is only talk, Faber," Wingfold called after him with a friendly laugh. Then turning to Mr. Drake, "Pardon me," he said, "for treating you with so much confidence. I saw you come in, but believed you would rather have us end our talk than break it off."
"Certainly. But I can't help thinking you grant him too much, Mr.
Wingfold," said the minister seriously.
"I never find I lose by giving, even in argument," said the curate. "Faber rides his hobby well, but the brute is a sorry jade. He will find one day she has not a sound joint in her whole body."