Doubtless she had told him a few things more or less funny that had seemed to move him to doubt or perplexity, or to mere seriousness; but, indeed, they had seemed less funny to her after that. For example, she had told Aunt Bell the anecdote of the British lady of title who says to her curate, concerning a worthy relative by marriage lately passed away, toward whom she has felt kindly despite his inferior station: "Of course I _couldn't_ know him here--but we shall meet in heaven." Aunt Bell had been edified by this, remarking earnestly that such differences would indeed be wiped out in heaven. Yet when Nancy went to Allan in a certain bubbling condition over the anecdote itself and Aunt Bell's comment thereon, he made her repeat it slowly, after the first hurried telling, and had laughed but awkwardly with her, rather as if it were expected of him--with an eye vacant of all but wonder--like a traveller not sure he had done right to take the left-hand turn at the last cross-roads. Again, the bishop who ordained him had, in a relaxed and social moment after the ceremony, related that little classic of Bishop Meade, who, during the fight over a certain disestablishment measure, was asked by a lobbyist how he would vote. The dignified prelate had replied that he would vote for the bill, for he held that every man should have the right to choose his own way to heaven. None the less, he would continue to be certain that a gentleman would always take the Episcopal way. To Nancy Allan retold this, adding, "You know, I'm going to use it in a sermon some time." "Yes--it's very funny," she answered, a little uncertainly. "Funny?" "Yes." "Do you think so?" "Of course--I've heard the bishop tell it myself--and I know _he_ thinks it funny." "Well--then I'll use it as a funny story. Of course, it _is_ funny--I only thought"--what it was he only thought Nancy never knew. Small bits of things to wonder at, these were, and the wonder brought no illumination. She only knew there were times when they two seemed of different worlds, bereft of power to communicate; and at these times his superbly assured wooing left her slightly dazed. But there were other times, and different--and slowly she became used to the idea of him--persuaded both by his own court and by the spirited encomiums that he evoked from Aunt Bell. Aunt Bell was at that time only half persuaded by Allan to re-enter the church of her blameless infancy. She was still minded to seek a little longer outside the fold that _rapport_ with the Universal Mind which she had never ceased to crave. In this process she had lately discarded Esoteric Buddhism for Subliminal Monitions induced by Psychic Breathing and correct breakfast-food. For all that, she felt competent to declare that Allan was the only possible husband for her niece, and her niece came to suspect that this might be so.