“I’d think you’d like other books better–detective stories and that kind,” she ventured. “Didn’t you ever read any other book?” 55
“Some few,” he replied, a reflection as of amusement in his eyes, which she thought made them look old and understanding and wise. “But I’ve always read the Bible. It’s one of the books that never seems to get old to you.”
“Did you ever read True as Steel?”
“No, I never did.”
“Or Tempest and Sunshine?”
He shook his head.
“Oh-h,” said she, fairly lifting herself by the long breath which she drew, like the inhalation of a pleasant recollection, “you don’t know what you’ve missed! They are lovely!”
“Well, maybe I’d like them, too.”
He stooped again, and this time came up with his pails.
“I’m glad you’re not religious, anyhow,” she sighed, as if heaving a trouble off her heart.