as
you don't trouble us with the Pope, whom I never could abide after all
I've heard of him, wanting to blow up the Established Church in London,
and making people kiss his toe, which I'd never do, not if he was to
burn me alive."

"Well, if that's the only limit to your toleration I think I could help
you, even though I can't come myself. I know one or two excellent
priests who would do endless good in a place like this."

Joanna suddenly felt her imagination gloat and kindle at the thought of
Brodnyx and Pedlinge compelled to holiness--all those wicked old men who
wouldn't go to church, but expected their Christmas puddings just the
same, those hobbledehoys who loafed against gate-posts the whole of
Sunday, those vain hussies who giggled behind their handkerchiefs all
the service through--it would be fine to see them hustled about and
taught their manners ... it would be valiant sport to see them made to
behave, as Mr. Pratt had never been able to make them. She with her
half-crown in the plate and her quarterly communion need have no qualms,
and she would enjoy seeing the fear of God put into other folk.

So Lawrence's visit was fruitful after all--a friend of his had been
ordered to give up his hard work in a slum parish and find a country
vocation. He promised that this friend should write to Joanna.

"But I must see him, too," she said.

They were standing at the open door, and the religious in his black
habit was like a cut paper silhouette against the long streaks of fading
purple cloud.

"I remember," he said, "that you always were particular about a man's
looks. How Martin's must have delighted you!"

His tongue did not falter over the loved, forbidden name--he spoke it
quite naturally and conversationally, as if glad that he could introduce
it at last into their business.

Joanna's body stiffened, but he did not see it, for he was gazing at the
young creeper's budding trail over the door.

"I hope you have a good photograph of him," he continued--"I know that a
very good photograph was taken of him a year before he died--much better
than any of the earlier ones. I hope you have one of those."

"Yes, I have," said Joanna gruffly. From shock she had passed into a
thrilling anger. How calmly he had spoken the dear name, how
unblushingly he had said the outrageous word "died!" How brazen,
thoughtless, cruel he was about it all!--tearing the veil from her
sorrow, talking as if her dead lived ... she fe