shown into the private study of
the great man. The floor was uncarpeted, the window uncurtained, the
room was almost dark; but a red-glow of fire light served to show a
large writing table strewn with papers, and walls literally lined with
books; also on the hearth-rug a little figure curled up in the most
unconventionally comfortable attitude, dividing her attention between
making toast and fondling a loud-purring cat.

CHAPTER III. Life From Another Point of View

Toleration an attack on Christianity? What, then, are we to
come to this pass, to suppose that nothing can support
Christianity but the principles of persecution?... I am
persuaded that toleration, so far from being an attack on
Christianity, becomes the best and surest support that can
possibly be given to it.... Toleration is good for all,
or it is good for none... God forbid. I may be mistaken,
but I take toleration to be a part of religion. Burke

Erica was, apparently, well used to receiving strangers. She put down
the toasting fork, but kept the cat in her arms, as she rose to greet
Charles Osmond, and her frank and rather child-like manner fascinated
him almost as much as it had fascinated Brian.

"My father will be home in a few minutes," she said; "I almost wonder
you didn't meet him in the square; he has only just gone to send off a
telegram. Can you wait? Or will you leave a message?"

"I will wait, if I may," said Charles Osmond. "Oh, don't trouble about
a light. I like this dimness very well, and, please, don't let me
interrupt you."

Erica relinquished a vain search for candle lighters, and took up her
former position on the hearth rug with her toasting fork.

"I like the gloaming, too," she said. "It's almost the only nice thing
which is economical! Everything else that one likes specially costs too
much! I wonder whether people with money do enjoy all the great treats."

"Very soon grow blase, I expect," said Charles Osmond. "The essence of a
treat is rarity, you see."

"I suppose it is. But I think I could enjoy ever so many things for
years and years without growing blase," said Erica.

"Sometimes I like just to fancy what life might be if there were no
tiresome Christians, and bigots, and lawsuits."

Charles Osmond laughed to himself in the dim light; the remark was made
with such perfect sincerity, and it evidently had not dawned on the
speaker that she could be addressing any