Dion stood still.
“Oh, is that true really?”
The Canon paused beside him. They were in Eaton Square, opposite to St. Peter’s.
“I think so. But I hate anything that approaches what I call mania. Religious mania, for instance, is abhorrent to me, and, I should think, displeasing to God. Any mania entering into a love clouds that purity which is the greatest beauty of love. Mania—it’s detestable!”
He spoke almost with a touch of heat, and put his hand on Dion’s shoulder.
“Beware of it, my boy.”
“Yes.”
They walked on, talking of other things. A few minutes before they parted they spoke of Mrs. Clarke.
“Did you know her before to-day?” asked the Canon.
“No. I’d never even seen her. How dreadful for her to have to face such a case.”