“Have you read these verses, by the way?”
“No. It’s quite a long poem, I believe, stanza upon stanza, but Gervase returned it at once. Since its effect has been so remarkable I am thinking of trying to get hold of it.”
“Doesn’t this strike you as very odd, that is, assuming your theory of the poem’s effect upon a man like Gervase to be correct?”
“Yes, quite extraordinary. He was always so fastidious, a man to whom only the best and highest appealed.”
“Quite so.” The vicar pursed his lips. “And it is a fact to look in the face, my dear Millicent. As you know, I am a great believer in looking facts in the face.”
“You think, Uncle Tom, it implies mental deterioration?”
“One hardly likes to say that,” said the vicar cautiously. “But that is what we have to fear.”
A deepening anxiety crept into the eyes of the wife. “It does seem a reasonable explanation. But please don’t forget that Gervase took no interest in any subject until John Smith came, and that now he has begun to read the Bible.”
“It is certainly remarkable if such is the case. By the way, do the doctors allow him to read the Bible?”
“He may read anything.”