The trouble began in the drawing-room after dinner. Out of deference to the bishop's abstinence the men did not remain to smoke, but came in to find the Mariposa and Lady Sunderbund smoking cigarettes, which these ladies continued to do a little defiantly. They had hoped to finish them before the bishop came up. The night was chilly, and a cheerful wood fire cracking and banging on the fireplace emphasized the ordinary heating. Mrs. Garstein Fellows, who had not expected so prompt an appearance of the men, had arranged her chairs in a semicircle for a little womanly gossip, and before she could intervene she found her party, with the exception of Lord Gatling, who had drifted just a little too noticeably with Miss Barnsetter into a window, sitting round with a conscious air, that was perhaps just a trifle too apparent, of being “good.” And Mr. Bent plunged boldly into general conversation. “Are you reading anything now, Mrs. Garstein Fellows?” he asked. “I'm an interested party.” She was standing at the side of the fireplace. She bit her lip and looked at the cornice and meditated with a girlish expression. “Yes,” she said. “I am reading again. I didn't think I should but I am.” “For a time,” said Hoppart, “I read nothing but the papers. I bought from a dozen to twenty a day.” “That is wearing off,” said the bishop. “The first thing I began to read again,” said Mrs. Garstein Fellows, “--I'm not saying it for your sake, Bishop--was the Bible.” “I went to the Bible,” said Bent as if he was surprised. “I've heard that before,” said Ridgeway Kelso, in that slightly explosive manner of his. “All sorts of people who don't usually read the Bible--” “But Mr. Kelso!” protested their hostess with raised eyebrows. “I was thinking of Bent. But anyhow there's been a great wave of seriousness, a sudden turning to religion and religious things. I don't know if it comes your way, Bishop....” “I've had no rows of penitents yet.” “We may be coming,” said Hoppart. He turned sideways to face the bishop. “I think we should be coming if--if it wasn't for old entangled difficulties. I don't know if you will mind my saying it to you, but....” The bishop returned his frank glance. “I'd like to know above all things,” he said. “If Mrs. Garstein Fellow will permit us. It's my business to know.” “We all want to know,” said Lady Sunderbund, speaking from the low chair on the other side of the fireplace. There was a vibration in her voice and a sudden gleam of enthusiasm in her face. “Why shouldn't people talk se'iously sometimes?” “Well, take my own case,” said Hoppart. “In the last few weeks, I've been reading not only in the Bible but in the Fathers. I've read most of Athanasius, most of Eusebius, and--I'll confess it--Gibbon. I find all my old wonder come back. Why are we pinned to--to the amount of creed we are pinned to? Why for instance must you insist on the Trinity?” “Yes,” said the Eton boy explosively, and flushed darkly to find he had spoken.