There were a hundred points on which I had yearned to question her, and the most vital of them all--why had she taken the name of that unsympathetic man?--arose to my mind, but instantly it sank again. Her manner toward me was cordial and intimate, but in it I recognized a command against familiarity; that quiet something which tells a man more than a volume of words could imply. I wanted to believe that she was persuaded by her father. I was willing to believe almost anything except that she could ever have loved him. It was not alone the eye of prejudice that made him look old; it was actual age. He was older than the Senator. But his people had been great--the lords of old Virginia. I would wait, and perhaps at some time in the future she might forget a high-strung woman's caution; she might drop a thoughtless word, a firefly to glow in the dark. The negro preacher came walking slowly down the patch, to give his attention to another part of the garden. He was humming a tune, with his eyes on the ground, and he neither spoke nor halted, but at my feet he dropped a weed. "You have a faithful gardener," I remarked, when Washington had passed beyond the reach of a low tone. "Yes; there was only one George Washington, and there's only one Washington Smith." "But don't you think he's a little too zealous?" "Too zealous? How?" she inquired, turning her eyes full upon me. "Well, I don't know that zealous is the word. Perhaps I should have said intolerant." "Oh, he is intolerant--yes. He believes that he's one of the anointed." "That's all very well, but he oughtn't to believe that he is appointed to look after the souls of other men." "Then he would have no mission," she replied. "The true strength of the preacher is his sense of responsibility." "Pardon me, I didn't know you were of the strictly orthodox fold." "Didn't you? Don't you know I go to church every Sunday?" "Yes, I ought to. I have more than once waited for you to come home." She looked at me in surprise, and I made haste to add: "The Senator and I have needed you to arbitrate our disputes, you know." "Oh, yes, and I think you were wise in acknowledging that he had brought you into his party. We all take a great interest in our converts. Everybody is looking forward to the coming of your dramatic season," she went on after a moment's pause. "And I think you'll become quite a favorite in society. I heard Mrs. Atkinson speak of you. She's our leader. She saw you somewhere. Of course there was some little prejudice against you, at first, but that has worn off. And there's a splendid catch here for you--Miss Rodney--distantly related to the Estell family. She has seen you, too. She says you must be very romantic; and she asked me all sorts of questions." "Of course I want to be agreeable, _but_--" "But what?" "I simply don't care anything for society." "Our stupid society, you mean." "No, I mean any society. I like individuals but I don't care for sets."