n
running in the darkness of an underground channel, and which livens with
sparkle and song as it breaks again into the sun--Conscience found
herself in holiday mood and her companion was responsive and frankly
delightful.

Haymond was, she understood, a preacher who could move men, but just
now he was only a splendidly alive companion. If she thought of him as a
preacher at all it was a preacher whose conception was rather that of a
knight serving a divinely royal master than a prosecutor thinking in
terms of dogma.

As an experiment in psychology, the luncheon was interesting because of
the riffles and undercurrents that passed below the conversation's even
tenor. The white-haired minister and his bronze-faced junior joined no
issues of conflicting opinion and each saw only the admirable in the
other--although two men so unlike in every quality except a common zeal
might more easily have found points of disagreement than concord.

Tollman was rather the listener than the talker, but when his eyes met
those of the visitor, Conscience fancied she detected an instinct of
vague hostility in those of the host and a dubiousness in those of the
guest. It was as if the waving antennae of their minds had touched and
established a sense of antagonism.

Sam Haymond knew types as a good buyer knows his line of wares. Here, he
told himself, was a nature cramped and bigoted. Such men had smirched
the history of religion with inquisitions and tortures--and had retarded
the progress of human thought.

Tollman's impression was less distinct. He fancied that in the
penetrating quality of the other's gaze was an impertinence of prying.

Had the visiting clergyman carried his analysis far enough to discover
that both men were bigots, he would still have drawn this distinction:
the lion and the jackal have the same general motive in life, yet the
jackal is hardly a lion.

Possibly it was a feeling of disquiet under silent observation which
caused Tollman, after luncheon, to turn his guest over to his wife for
entertainment, and Haymond acquiesced with enthusiasm to Conscience's
suggestion that they go for a sail to the greater bay.

To Conscience this was all retrieving from monotony a little scrap of
the life for which she had so eagerly yearned: the life of progress,
stimulus and breadth.

And then they were in the tilting boat, racing before a wind which
bellied the taut mains'l and drummed upon its canvas. She and Eben had,