"Don't you suppose that a priest may know what it is to worship the very ground a woman walks on? Don't you suppose he has had his heart beat till it suffocated him just because her fingers touched his or her gown brushed him? A man is a man after all, and the dreams that come to one are much the same as come to another. The difference is that the priest has to tear his very heart out, and turn his back on all that other men may find delight in." Berenice looked at him with shining eyes, not undimmed, he thought, by tears. "If you really care for her so much," she said softly, "you can give only a divided heart to your work. It is better to own that to yourself, isn't it?" "For her?" he echoed. "Oh, there must be somebody," she returned hastily, her color coming. "No matter about that." "But think of giving up!" he cried, leaning toward her. "Even those who believe nothing despise a renegade priest." "That's of less consequence than that he should ruin his life and despise himself." He held out his uninjured hand impulsively. "Berenice!" he whispered. She flushed celestial red, and for an instant her eyes responded to the love in his. Then she sprang to her feet, with a laugh. "There!" she cried. "See what dunces we are to get to discussing theology. I'll never forgive you if you try to inveigle me into another talk about such subjects. Here is Mehitabel to say that she's ready to help you with your packing." XVI THE GREAT ASSAY OF ART Macbeth, iv. 3. "I am sorry if I kept you waiting," Mrs. Wilson said to her husband, coming into the library one afternoon, "but the fact is that I was dressing for a comedy." "Gad! you dress for a comedy every day, as far as that goes." She made a mocking courtesy. "Well, what is life without comedy?" "Oh, nothing but a bore, of course. Is this comedy with some of your ministerial hangers-on?" She sat down by the fire and stretched out her feet upon a hassock. She was radiant with beauty and mischief, and dressed to perfection. "That isn't a respectful way to speak of the clergy." "It's as respectful as I feel," he responded, lighting a pipe. "You do have a nice gang of them round. There's Candish, for instance. He looks like an advertisement for a misfit tailor, and he's fairly putrid with philanthropy." Elsie gave a quick burst of laughter. Then she pretended to frown. "Chauncy," she said, "you have the most abominable way of putting things that I ever heard. What would you say to the youngsters from the Clergy House that I have in train? They're perfect lambs, and they love each other like twins. Have you seen them?" "Oh, yes; I've seen them. They seem to have been brought up on sterilized milk of the gospel, and to have Jordan water for blood."