"Better tell him what the subject was," suggested Benis unkindly.
"Didn't you listen?" Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. "That's one of the things I don't understand about people here. Church and church affairs seem to play such an important part in Bainbridge. Nearly everyone goes to some church. But no one seems at all disturbed about what they hear there. Is it because they believe all that the minister says, or because they don't believe any of it?"
Her hearers exchanged an alarmed glance.
"What do you want them to do?" said John uneasily. "Argue about it? Besides, this morning was very exceptionally hot."
"I don't want to be any more heathen than I have to be," went on Desire, "but I must be terribly heathen if what Mr. McClintock said this morning is right. He was speaking of pain, physical pain, and, he said God sent it. I always thought," she concluded naively, "that it came straight from the devil."
"Healthy chap, McClintock!" said Benis lazily. "Never had anything worse than measles and doesn't remember them."
"What I'd like to know," said the doctor, "would be his opinion after several weeks of—something unpleasant. He might feel more like blaming the devil. What does he think doctors are fighting? God? By Jove, I must have this out with McClintock! I know that, for one, I never fight down pain without a glorious sense of giving Satan his licks."
"But you did not even listen."
"I'm listening now."
"And no one else seemed to object to anything he said. I heard some of them call it a 'beautiful discourse' and 'so helpful.'"