“Heaven forbid! But I say there’s respect due to devils, damned tho’ they be.”
“Dangerous doctrine.”
“My meaning is that if the shape of anything be worth man’s thought to picture to man, it’s worth his best thought.”
“That’s safer. But I’m glad I’ve given you Absolution.”
“There’s less risk for a craftsman who deals with the outside shapes of things—for Mother Church’s glory.”
“Maybe so, but John”—the Abbot’s hand almost touched John’s sleeve—“tell me, now, is—is she Moorish or—or Hebrew?”
“She’s mine,” John returned.
“Is that enough?”
“I have found it so.”
“Well—ah well! It’s out of my jurisdiction but—how do they look at it down yonder?”