“Is it his own business only?” he asked gravely.

“Whose else should it be?” she demanded.

“God’s,” said Peter simply.

Julie stared at him and sighed.  “You’re very odd, Peter,” she said, “but you do say things that strike one as being true.  Go on.”

“Oh, there’s no more to say,” said Peter, “except, perhaps, this:  if anyone or any Church honestly believed that God had committed His share in the business to them—­well, then he might justifiably feel that he or it had a good deal to do with the settling of another man’s religion.  Hence this tower, Julie, and as a matter of fact, my dear, hence me, past and present.  But come on.”

She took his arm with a little shiver which he was beginning to notice from time to time in her.  “It’s a horrible idea, Peter,” she said.  “Yes, let’s go.”

So their taxi took them to Buckingham Palace and thereabouts, and by chance they saw the King and Queen.  Their Majesties drove by smartly in morning dress with a couple of policemen ahead, and a few women waved handkerchiefs, and Peter came to the salute, and Julie cheered.  The Queen turned towards where she was standing, and bowed, and Peter noticed, amazed, that the eyes of the Colonial girl were wet, and that she did not attempt to hide it.

He had to question her.  “I shouldn’t have thought you’d have felt about royalty like that, Julie,” he said.

“Well, I do,” she said, “and I don’t care what you say.  Only I wish they’d go about with the Life Guards.  The King’s a King to me.  I suppose he is only a man, but I don’t want to think of him so.  He stands for the Empire and for the Flag, and he stands for England too.  I’d obey that man almost in anything, right or wrong, but I don’t know that I’d obey anyone else.”

“Then you’re a survival of the Dark Ages,” he said.

“Don’t be a beast!” said Julie.

“All right, you’re not, and indeed I don’t know if I am right.  Very likely you’re the very embodiment of the spirit of the Present Day.  Having lost every authority, you crave for one.”

Julie considered this.  “There may be something in that,” she said.  “But I don’t like you when you’re clever.  It was the King, and that’s enough for me.  And I don’t want to see anything more.  I’m hungry; take me to lunch.”

Peter laughed.  “That’s it,” he said—­“like the follower of Prince Charlie who shook hands once with his Prince and then vowed he would never shake hands with anyone again.  So you’ve seen the King, and you won’t see anything else, only your impression won’t last twelve hours, fortunately.”

“I don’t suppose the other man kept his vow,” said Julie.  “For one thing, no man ever does.  Come on!”