“Very well—I’ll do just as you bid me, and I won’t vex you, Jude,” she replied, in the tone of a child who was going to be good for ever after, turning her back upon him accordingly. A small Bible other than the one he was using lay near her, and during his retreat she took it up, and turned over the leaves. “Jude,” she said brightly, when he had finished and come back to her; “will you let me make you a _new_ New Testament, like the one I made for myself at Christminster?” “Oh yes. How was that made?” “I altered my old one by cutting up all the Epistles and Gospels into separate _brochures_, and rearranging them in chronological order as written, beginning the book with Thessalonians, following on with the Epistles, and putting the Gospels much further on. Then I had the volume rebound. My university friend Mr.—but never mind his name, poor boy—said it was an excellent idea. I know that reading it afterwards made it twice as interesting as before, and twice as understandable.” “H’m!” said Jude, with a sense of sacrilege. “And what a literary enormity this is,” she said, as she glanced into the pages of Solomon’s Song. “I mean the synopsis at the head of each chapter, explaining away the real nature of that rhapsody. You needn’t be alarmed: nobody claims inspiration for the chapter headings. Indeed, many divines treat them with contempt. It seems the drollest thing to think of the four-and-twenty elders, or bishops, or whatever number they were, sitting with long faces and writing down such stuff.” Jude looked pained. “You are quite Voltairean!” he murmured. “Indeed? Then I won’t say any more, except that people have no right to falsify the Bible! I _hate_ such hum-bug as could attempt to plaster over with ecclesiastical abstractions such ecstatic, natural, human love as lies in that great and passionate song!” Her speech had grown spirited, and almost petulant at his rebuke, and her eyes moist. “I _wish_ I had a friend here to support me; but nobody is ever on my side!” “But my dear Sue, my very dear Sue, I am not against you!” he said, taking her hand, and surprised at her introducing personal feeling into mere argument. “Yes you are, yes you are!” she cried, turning away her face that he might not see her brimming eyes. “You are on the side of the people in the training-school—at least you seem almost to be! What I insist on is, that to explain such verses as this: ‘Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?’ by the note: ‘_The Church professeth her faith_,’ is supremely ridiculous!” “Well then, let it be! You make such a personal matter of everything! I am—only too inclined just now to apply the words profanely. You know _you_ are fairest among women to me, come to that!”