broke into laughter.

'Why not?' pursued Godwin. 'Did I ever tell you that my people
originally wished to make a parson of me? Of course I resisted tooth
and nail, but it seems to me now that I was rather foolish in doing so.
I wish I _had_ been a parson. In many ways the position would have
suited me very well.'

'M--m--m!'

'I am quite serious. Well, if I were so placed, I should preach Church
dogma, pure and simple. I would have nothing to do with these
reconciliations. I would stand firm as Jeremy Taylor; and in
consequence should have an immense and enthusiastic congregation.'

'I daresay.'

'Depend upon it, let the dogmas do what they still can. There's a vast
police force in them, at all events. A man may very strongly defend
himself for preaching them.'

The pursuit of this argument led Earwaker to ask:

'What proportion of the clergy can still take that standing in stolid
conscientiousness?'

'What proportion are convinced that it is untenable?' returned Peak.

'Many wilfully shut their eyes to the truth.'

'No, they don't shut their eyes!' cried Godwin. 'They merely lower a
nictitating membrane which permits them to gaze at light without
feeling its full impact.'

'I recommend you to bring that into your paper,' said the journalist,
with his deep chuckle.

An hour later they were conversing with no less animation, but the talk
was not so critical. Christian Moxey had come up as a topic, and
Earwaker was saying that he found it difficult to divine the man's
personality.

'You won't easily do that,' replied Peak, 'until you know more of his
story. I can't see that I am bound to secrecy--at all events with you.
Poor Moxey imagines that he is in love, and the fancy has lasted about
ten years.

'Ten years?'

'When I first knew him he was paying obvious attentions to a rather
plain cousin down at Twybridge. Why, I don't know, for he certainly was
devoted to a girl here in London. All he has confessed to me is that he
had given up hopes of her, but that a letter of some sort or other
revived them, and he hastened back to town. He might as well have
stayed away; the girl very soon married another man. Less than a year
later she had bitterly repented this, and in some way or other she
allowed Moxey to know it. Since then they have been Platonic
lovers--nothing more, I am convinced. They see each other about once in
six months, and presumably live on a hope that the obnoxious husband
may decease. I