“At any rate, George Holland didn’t interest me so long as he talked of his aspirations.  Then he talked of—­well, of something else, and I’m afraid that I was rude to him.  I don’t think that he will come here again.  I know that I shall never go to St. Chad’s again.”

“Heavens above!  This is a pretty story to tell a father.  How were you rude to him?  I should like to have a story of your rudeness, merely to hold up against you for a future emergency.”

“I pointed to the door in the attitude of the heroine of one of the old plays, and when he didn’t leave at once, I left the room.”

“You mean to say that you left him standing in the middle of the room while you went away?”

“I told you that I was rude.”

“Rude, yes; but it’s one thing to omit to leave cards upon a hostess, and quite another to stare her in the face when she bows to you in the street.  It’s one thing to omit sending a man a piece of your bridescake, and quite another to knock off his hat in the street.  Rude, oh, my dear Phyllis!”

“If you knew what he said about—­about someone whom I love—­if you knew how angry I was, you would not say that I acted so atrociously, after all.”

“Oh!  Did he say something more about Ruth?”

“He said too much—­far too much; I cannot tell you.  If any other man said so much I would treat him in the same way.  You must not ask me anything further, please.”

“Rude and unrepentant, shocking and not ashamed.  This is terrible.  But perhaps it’s better that you should be rude when you’re young and beautiful; later on, when you’re no longer young, it will not be permitted in you.  I’ll question you no further.  Only how about Sunday?”

“I have promised Ella to go with her party to The Mooring for a week.”

“That will get over the matter of the church, but only for one Sunday.  How about the next Sundays—­until the prorogation?  Now, don’t say the obvious ‘sufficient unto the Sunday is the sermon thereof.’”

“I certainly will not.  I have done forever with St. Chad’s, unless the bishop interferes and we get a new rector.”

“Then that’s settled.  And so we can drink our coffee in the drawing room with easy minds.  Rude!  Great Heavens!”

CHAPTER XXVII.

THAT’S WHY WOMEN DO NOT MAKE GOOD PHILOSOPHERS.

She had prayed to God that he might be kept away from her; but immediately afterward, as has already been stated, when she began to think over the situation of the hour, she came to the conclusion that she had been a little too precipitate in her petition.  She felt that she would like to ask him how it had come about that he had played that contemptible part.  Such a contemptible part!  Was it on record, she wondered, that any man had ever played that contemptible part?  To run away!  And she had designed and worn that wonderful toilet; such a toilet as Helen