It must be remembered that the two cases are not parallel. In the one case we begin with a writer whose mind is filled with an intellectual presupposition, with a knowledge, that is to say, of the Virgin Birth presupposed. Under these circumstances the miracle must be “a necessary stone in the structure”, and its effect determinative. If the Virgin Birth had been known to St. Luke for some considerable time, we cannot think that Lk. i, ii would have possessed the features to which we have called attention in Chapter II. In the other case—that of our hypothesis—the Virgin Birth is a piece of new information, and, if this is so, we submit that inconsistencies left in the adapted narrative wear a different hue. It is one thing to introduce into a narrative what is inconsistent to one’s presuppositions. It is quite another thing not to perceive inconsistencies at once, when our knowledge is enlarged by a totally new fact. A presupposition is much more despotic than a subsequent discovery. It is common knowledge that the implications of a new point of view are not always immediately recognized. For a time old and new live together. It is not by any means an easy task to introduce into a narrative, constructed under the guidance of alien presuppositions, a fact of an entirely new order. That St. Luke should have performed his task so well argues no little skill in literary craftsmanship. That his work was not completely done is after all no more than we might expect. From the standpoint of literary exactitude, no doubt the better plan would have been to rewrite the narrative, or at least to subject it to a rigorous pruning. But we ought not to complain if these things have not been done. St. Luke was probably too much of an artist to feel the merciless logic of his new information; and the result is a compromise. In connexion with our theory we do not think that this is an unreasonable view to take. The difficulties are certainly much greater upon the theory that St. Luke knew of the Virgin Birth from the first. Granted certain presuppositions, and we can say with good reason what a writer like St. Luke would not be likely to do. Assume the entrance of a new fact, transforming by a whole world of difference the writer’s point of view, and who can say just what he would do? We can say, of course, that he would introduce his new knowledge, if persuaded of its truth; but when we come to the details of reconstruction, we are face to face with the uncertainties of the personal equation. The logical procedure is drastic revision. If the writer stops short of this, as he may very well do, and attempts to fuse his material, seams must show and markings remain. This is precisely what we find in Lk. i, ii. In i. 34 f. and its context we can detect the seams; in c. ii we can see the markings.