Lindley was a dynamic person and his presence had the effect of disturbing the tranquility of the room. Mills wished now that he hadn’t admitted the rector of St. Barnabas, with his professional good cheer and optimism. He remembered that Lindley always wanted something when he came to the office. If it proved to be help for a negro mission St. Barnabas maintained somewhere, Mills resolved to refuse to contribute. He had no intention of encouraging further the idea that he could be relied upon to support all of Lindley’s absurd schemes for widening the sphere of the church. It was a vulgar idea that a sinner should prostrate himself before an imaginary God and beg for forgiveness. Where sin existed the main thing was to keep it decently out of sight. But the whole idea of sin was repellent. He caught himself up sharply. What had he to do with sin? But outwardly Mills was serene; Lindley was at least a diversion, though Mills reflected that someone ought to warn him against his tendency to obesity. A fat man in a surplice was ridiculous, though Mills hadn’t seen Lindley in vestments since the last fashionable wedding. At the reception following the wedding Mills remembered that he had been annoyed by Lindley’s appetite; more particularly by a glimpse of the rector’s plump hand extended for a second piece of cake--cake with a thick, gooey icing. Mills wondered what he had ever seen that was likable in the rector, who certainly suggested nothing of apostolic austerity. Lindley threw back his coat, disclosing a gold cross suspended from a cord that stretched across his broad chest. Mills’s eyes fixed upon the emblem disapprovingly as he asked his visitor to have a cigar. “No, thanks, Mills; I never smoke so early in the day--found it upset me. Moderation in all things is my motto. I missed you at the Clayton party the other night; a brilliant affair. Dear Leila was there, though, and Shepherd and his charming wife, to represent your family. Margaret and I left early.” The clergyman chuckled and lowering his voice continued: “I’ve heard--I’ve heard _whispers_ that later on the party got quite gay! I tell you, Mills, the new generation is stepping high. All the more responsibility for the forces that make for good in this world! I was saying to the bishop only the other day that the church never before faced such perplexities as now!” “Why do you say perplexities?” asked Mills in the quiet tone and indulgent manner of an expert cross-examiner who is preparing pitfalls for a witness. “Ah, I see you catch at the word! It’s become a serious question what the church dare do! There’s the danger of offending; of estranging its own membership.” “Yes, but why is it a danger?” Mills persisted.