“That rector is a wonderful man,” he broke out, irrelevantly. “I can't get over' him—I can't quite grasp the fact that he exists, that he has dared to do what he has done.”
This brought her colour back, but she faced him bravely. “You think he is wonderful, then?”
“Don't you?” he demanded.
She assented. “But I am curious to know why you do. Somehow, I never thought of—you—”
“As religious,” he supplied. “And you? If I remember rightly—”
“Yes,” she interrupted, “I revolted, too. But Mr. Hodder puts it so—it makes one wonder.”
“He has not only made me wonder,” declared Bedloe Hubbell, emphatically, “I never knew what religion was until I heard this man last Sunday.”
“Last Sunday!”
“Until then, I hadn't been inside of a church for fifteen years,—except to get married. My wife takes the children, occasionally, to a Presbyterian church near us.”
“And why, did you go then?” she asked.