There was a long silence. They had almost reached Joyce’s little home. He suddenly turned her about.
“Let us walk back down this next street. It is not late, and if you will not let me come into your house, at least we can walk a little longer. I must have this question settled tonight. I cannot let this separation go on between us any longer.”
“The question so far as I am concerned is settled now,” she said firmly.
“But Joyce, if it were not for this difference? Suppose I thought as you do, would you say yes?”
Joyce hesitated. Theirs had been a pleasant companionship in a way.
“I cannot tell,” she said thoughtfully. “It would have made so much difference, I cannot tell how I would have felt.”
“There!” he said triumphantly. “You see, I was right. You do love me, only you are so filled with this fanaticism that you won’t let yourself see it.”
“You are mistaken,” said Joyce gravely. “I have never even considered it, because from the first of my acquaintance I have known that you were this way.”
“This way? What way?” he asked sharply. It hurt him to have her criticise him now, when he had declared his love for her. Joyce thought a moment.
“You do not believe. You do not understand the things of the Spirit. You base whatever faith you have on the wisdom of men, not in the power of God. Haven’t you ever heard that the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God?”