Nola did not think she would have said it herself twelve hours ago. Why she said it now she could not tell. Perhaps she was womanish enough to feel annoyed at the manner in which Lucy seemed to appropriate Victor Heron's cause, and womanish enough too to relieve her mind by saying disparaging things of him.
Mr. Money's eyes twinkled with an amused smile.
"See how you wrong a man sometimes, you ladies—even the most reasonable among you. Heron is more Quixotic than you think, Miss Grey. I have had a letter from him this very morning about St. Paul. I'll read it if you like—it need not be kept secret from anybody here."
Mrs. Money and Lucy earnestly asked to have the letter read, and Mr. Money read it accordingly:
"My Dear Money: I don't like St. Paul, and I won't march through Coventry with him. I think he is unprincipled and discreditable, and if I can't get in for Keeton without his helping hand, I'll stay out of Keeton, and that's all about that. I know you will agree with me when you think this over. Excuse haste and abruptness. I want to make my position clear to you without any loss of time.
"Yours faithfully,
"Victor Heron."
"Now, Nola, you see you were wrong," the triumphant Lucy exclaimed.
"I do not like Mr. St. Paul," the quiet Theresa observed. "He seems to me godless and demoralized. He spake in the lightest and most scoffing way of the labors of the Church among the heathen populations."
"I liked him," Mrs. Money sighed. "I liked him because he had the spirit to resign his rank and fling away his title."