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Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories. It will do its best to overlook things—” “If we let it, poor dear.
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