'I am sure everything—and everybody—is perfect at the Rectory!'
'No—not perfect—but peaceable.'
He looked at her smiling. His grey eyes, under their strong black brows, challenged her. She perceived in them a whole swarm of unspoken charges. Her own colour rose.
'So peace is what you want?'
'Peace—and a little sympathy.'
'And we give you neither?'
He hesitated.
'Willy never fails one.'
'So it's my crimes that are driving you away? It's all to be laid on my shoulders?'
He laughed—uncertainly.