Her brother had no need to add, "Nor shall I," for he was not a society man. But he looked at her inquiringly.
"I don't know why," she replied to his look, "but it seems very different from this. Don't you think so?"
"I do indeed," he answered, understanding what she meant by "this."
Winifred had not arrived at analytical reasons, but had intuitively reached a conclusion. Just a mental picture of the coming brilliant event at Mrs. Butterworth's; the gay scene, the intoxicating music, the hollow courtesies, flattering words and glances, the dancing—just an instant vision of the scene that arose in sheer contrast against the pure holiness of the things they had been considering, and Winifred turned from it quickly. To have spoken her impression, and Hubert's evident approval, helped her to hold to it in later hours of temptation.
The Japanese gong sounded musically for Sunday evening tea before they were aware that time had flown. They assembled with their elders who looked not so much refreshed by their slumbers as our young friends by their study. The repast over, Hubert, who wished to do all things required of a Christian, but who felt a secret repugnance to listening again to Doctor Schoolman, sounded Winifred's mind on the matter.
"Are you going to hear Doctor Schoolman?" he asked.
"Why, I suppose so," said she. "What else should one do?"
"What is he going to preach about?" he asked evasively.
"I don't know. Let's look in the paper and see."
So they found Saturday's paper and saw that this evening was to have the first of a series of discourses on "Poets and Their Teachings," with Tennyson as the first subject.