"Yes. How could you know?" "Mr. Harding told me what you were like, sir, and that you were wearing a tie with a large green stone in it. Begging your pardon, sir." "I will wait," said Malling, marveling at the rector's rapid and accurate powers of observation. Those of the congregation who had not remained for the celebration were quickly dispersing, but Malling now noticed that the lady with the white lock was, like himself, waiting for some one. She stood not far from him. She was holding a parasol, and looking down; she moved its point to and fro on the ground. Several people greeted her. Almost as if startled she glanced up quickly, smiled, replied. Then, as they went on, she again looked down. There was a pucker in her brow. Her lips twitched now and then. Suddenly she lifted her head, turned and forced her quivering mouth to smile. Mr. Harding had come into sight round the corner of the church. "Ah, Mr. Malling," he said, "so you have stayed. Very good of you. Sophia, let me introduce Mr. Malling to you--my wife, Lady Sophia." The lady with the white lock held out her hand. "You have heard Professor Stepton speak of Mr. Malling, haven't you?" added the rector to his wife. "Indeed I have," she answered. She smiled again kindly, and as if resolved to throw off her depression began to talk with some animation as they all walked together toward the street. Directly they reached it the rector said: "Are you engaged to lunch to-day, Mr. Malling?" "No," answered Malling. Lady Sophia turned to him and said: "Then I shall be informal and beg you to lunch with us, if you don't mind our being alone. We lunch early, at one, as my husband is tired after his morning's work and eats virtually nothing at breakfast." "I shall be delighted," said Malling. "It's very kind of you." "We always walk home," said the rector. He sighed. It was obvious that he was in low spirits after the failure of the morning, but he tried to conceal the fact, and his wife tactfully helped him. Malling praised the music warmly, and remarked on the huge congregation. "I scarcely thought I should find a seat," he added. "It is always full to the doors in the morning," said Lady Sophia, with a cheerfulness that was slightly forced. She glanced at her husband, and suddenly added, not without a decided touch of feminine spite: "Unless Mr. Chichester, the senior curate, is preaching." "My dear Sophy!" exclaimed Mr. Harding. "Well, it is so!" she said, with a sort of petulance. "Perhaps Mr. Chichester is not gifted as a preacher," said Malling. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," said the rector. "My husband never criticizes his--swans," said Lady Sophia, with delicate malice, and a glance full of meaning at Malling. "But I'm a woman, and my principles are not so high as his." "You do yourself an injustice," said the rector. "Here we are." He drew out his latch-key.