"In a week's time from this it will be shut up, and all the nonsense within its walls cleared away."
"The nonsense!" shrieked Miss Blake.
"Why you cannot call it sense--or religion either. To tell you the truth, Miss Blake, the place has been an offence to me for some time. It has caused a scandal--"
"For shame, Sir Karl Andinnian! Scandal, indeed!"
"And this little bit of fresh scandal that has arisen now, people don't like at all," quietly persisted Sir Karl. "Neither do I. So, to prevent the bishop coming down upon us here, Miss Blake, I close the place."
Miss Blake compressed her lips. She could have struck him as he stood.
"What do you mean by a 'fresh' scandal, pray?"
"Well, the story runs that Mr. Cattacomb was seen to kiss one of the young ladies in the vestry."
Miss Blake started, Miss Blake shrieked, Miss Blake wondered that the very ceiling did not drop down upon the bold false tongue. To do her justice, she believed St. Jerome's pastor was by far too holy a man for any wickedness of the sort. Not to speak of restraining prudence.
"Sir Karl, may you be forgiven! Where do you expect to go to when you die?"