He came toward her where she had stepped from the threshold and sat crouched on the hewn log, and stood looking down at her before he sank at her side.
“You may think it's pretty strange, my asking you for help. Won't you set? I can't let you come inside because the baby's just got to sleep.”
“Well,” he assented, “if you're not afraid to be seen with such an infidel in the full light of day,” he jested, confronting her from the log where he sank. “What would Brother Gillespie say?”
She ignored his kindly mockery, and again she began, “What makes you believe there's a God? You don't believe in the Bible?”
“Not altogether, Nancy.”
“Do you believe in the Bible God?”
“As much as the Bible'll let me.”
“Then, do you believe in the miracles?”
“What are you after, Nancy Billings?”
“If you saw a miracle, would you believe it?”