Cornelia hesitated, staring at him with puzzled eyes. "You seemed to think Saint Paul's a pretty queer choice when I mentioned it a few minutes back!" "I did; more shame to me, I suppose; but then you explained your reasons.--I don't pretend that I should care to go by myself, but if you take me as your companion, it might be good for me, too. ... Would it disturb you to have me there?" "No-o," said Cornelia, slowly. "I'd as lief you were there as not! I feel differently since I heard that story. ... You must need heartening up sometimes. Let's go right along then, and see if we ken't lay in a store of good thoughts, that will help us along for quite a while. Will you order a cab?" ... Guest walked in silence to the door of the hotel. By his own request he was going to attend a church afternoon service with Cornelia Briskett! The thing seemed too extraordinary to be believed! He took his seat in the hansom in a kind of stunned surprise. Truly, every man was a stranger to himself, and there was no foretelling what an hour might bring forth! Cornelia turned to survey herself in the slip of mirror, and carefully adjusted the set of her hat. "Say!" she cried, laughingly, "we've forgotten that chaperon! Suppose you think one's not needed in a cathedral." She paused, dimpling mischievously. "Well! that's just as you're made. I guess if I were set on it, I could flirt in a _crypt_!" CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. Captain Guest could not flatter himself that Cornelia was in anyway "set on" flirting with himself, since nothing could have been further removed from that attitude than her behaviour during the afternoon. She displayed a keen interest in her first view of the Strand and Fleet Street, and though her criticisms of those ancient thoroughfares were the reverse of complimentary, she was evidently impressed by the vast solemnity of the cathedral itself. The usual congregation of stragglers were dotted about on the chairs in the nave; dreary-looking derelicts from God knows where, who drift in through the open doorways seeking refuge from heat in summer, and cold in winter, and listen with apathetic indifference to the passing services. Guest seated himself by Cornelia's side at the end of an unoccupied row, but for all the notice she paid him, he might as well have been at his aunt's reception miles away. Only once, as the boys' voices soared upwards in a strain of almost unearthly sweetness, did she turn her face towards him, in involuntary appeal for sympathy, and at that moment there could no longer be any doubt as to her looks. She was beautiful; so beautiful that Guest was dazzled by the sight of the white, kindled face.