"Pardon!" said Grismer, with a pained forbearance. "It is the creed of those who worship and believe the truth as taught in the church of which I am a member."
"Oh, I beg your pardon."
"Granted," said Grismer sadly.
He sat caressing his jaw in silence for a while, then:
"Her name was Jessie Grismer. She—ah—assumed the name of Conway.... God did not bless the unholy union. There was a daughter, Laura. A certain Harry Quest, the profligate, wasted son of that good man, the Reverend Anthony Quest, married this girl, Laura Conway.... God, mindful of His wrath, still punished the seed of my sinful sister, even until the second generation.... Stephanie Quest is their daughter."
"Good heavens, Grismer! I can't understand that you, knowing this, have not done something——"
"Why? Am I to presume to interfere with God's purpose? Am I to question the righteousness of His wrath?"
"But—she is the little grandchild of your own sister!——"
"A sister utterly cut off from among us! A sister dead to us—a soul eternally lost and to be eternally forgotten."
"Is that your—creed—Grismer?"