“I'm very glad to see you,” he said, in a tone that left no doubt of its genuine quality.
“Thank you,” Hodder replied, meeting his eye with kindness, yet with a scrutiny that sought to penetrate the secret of an unexpected cordiality. “I, too, have hoped to see you.”
Alison, who stood by wondering, felt a meaning behind the rector's words. She pressed his hand as he bade her, once more, good night.
“Won't you take my taxicab?” asked Preston. “It is going down town anyway.”
“I think I'd better stick to the street cars,” Hodder said. His refusal was not ungraceful, but firm. Preston did not insist.
In spite of the events of that evening, which he went over again and again as the midnight car carried him eastward, in spite of a new-born happiness the actuality of which was still difficult to grasp, Hodder was vaguely troubled when he thought of Preston Parr.