Brilliana interrupted him with an impetuous gesture of command, and Evander made an end of his display.
“Enough, enough!” she cried. “I feel like Balkis when she came to sip wisdom from Solomon’s goblet. If I question you further I may find that, like my Lord Verulam, you have taken all knowledge for your province. This is something uncanny in a Puritan.”
Evander protested.
“Why should a man deny the arts of life because he finds strength in the faith of the Puritans?”
“I know not why,” Brilliana answered, “but so it is generally believed among us who are not Puritans.”
“There are fanatic fellows with us as in all causes,” Evander admitted, “and some, it may be, who wear moroseness to gain favor. But these are no more than the fringe of a stout cloak. I am no exceptional Puritan, I promise you. Colonel Cromwell himself—”
Brilliana interrupted him with a frowning imperiousness.
“Let us not talk of Colonel Cromwell,” she commanded.
“I wish you would let me speak of Colonel Cromwell,” Evander pleaded. “He has long been my dear friend, and—”