“Mr. Denison has really very unfortunate ways of expressing himself at times,” said Mrs. Oliver, who had too, Arnold thought. “Oh, he means well,” said Eddy apologetic. “You mustn’t mind him. He’s got corns, and if anyone steps on them he turns nasty. He’s always like that.” “In fact, a conceited pig,” said Daphne, not to herself. Personally Daphne thought the best of the three was Mrs. Le Moine, who anyhow dressed well and could dance, though her habits might be queer. Better queer habits than queer clothes, any day, thought Daphne, innately a pagan, with the artist’s eye and the materialist’s soul. Anyhow, Jane and Arnold departed on Monday. From the point of view of Mrs. Oliver and the Dean, it might have been better had it been Saturday, as their ideas of how to spend Sunday had been revealed as unfitting a Deanery. The Olivers were not in the least sabbatarian, they were much too wide-minded for that, but they thought their visitors should go to church once during the day. Perhaps Jane had been discouraged by her experiences with the Prayer Book on New Year’s Eve. Perhaps it never occurred to her to go. Anyhow in the morning she stayed at home and drew, and in the evening wandered into the Cathedral during the collects, stayed for the anthem, and wandered out, peaceful and content, with no suspicion of having done the wrong or unusual thing. Arnold lay in the hall all the morning and smoked and read _The New Machiavelli_, which was one of the books not liked at the Deanery. (Arnold, by the way, didn’t like it much either, but dipped in and out of it, grunting when bored.) In consequence (not in consequence of _The New Machiavelli_, which she would have found dull, but of being obliged herself to go to church), Daphne was cross and envious, the Dean and his wife slightly disapproving, and Eddy sorry about the misunderstanding. On the whole, the visit had not been the success Eddy had wished for. He felt that. In spite of some honest endeavour on both sides, the hosts and guests had not fitted into each other. Coming back into Welchester from a walk, and seeing its streets full of peace and blue winter twilight and starred with yellow lamps, Eddy thought it queer that there should be disharmonies in such a place. It had peace, and a wistful, ordered beauty, and dignity, and grace....