But this evening—the evening of the day I had met Gideon—there was a girl in church. She was rather at the back, and I didn't see who it was till I was going out. Then she stopped me at the door, and I saw that it was Clare Potter. I knew Clare Potter very slightly, and had never found her interesting. I had always believed her to be conventional and commonplace, without the brains of the twins or even the mild spirituality of Frank.
But I was startled by her face now; it was white and strained, and emotion wavered pitifully over it.
'Please,' she said, 'will you hear my confession?'
'I'm very sorry,' I told her, 'but I can't. I'm still in deacon's orders.'
She seemed disappointed.
'Oh! Oh dear! I didn't know….'
I was puzzled. Why had she pitched on me? Hadn't she, I wondered, a regular director, or was it her first confession she wanted to make? I began something about the vicar being always glad … But she stopped me.
'No, please. It must be you. There's a reason…. Well, if you can't hear my confession, may I tell you something in private, and get your advice?'
'Of course,' I said.
'Now, at once, if you've time…. It's very urgent.'