drawn into an
expression very unlike the laxity appropriate to pleasurable smoking.
When the murmur of the pines had for a moment been audible, he said,
with a forced smile:

'I notice you take for granted that a clear brain and religious
orthodoxy are incompatible.'

The other gave him a keen look.

'Hardly,' was Buckland's reply, spoken with less ingenuousness of tone
than usual. 'I say that Miss Moorhouse has undeniably a strong mind,
and that it is impossible to suspect her of the slightest hypocrisy.'

'Whence the puzzle that keeps you occupied,' rejoined Peak, in a voice
that sounded like assumption of superiority, though the accent had an
agreeable softness.

Warricombe moved as if impatiently, struck a match to rekindle his
weed, blew tumultuous clouds, and finally put a blunt question:

'What do you think about it yourself?'

'From my point of view, there is no puzzle at all,' Godwin replied, in
a very clear voice, smiling as he met the other's look.

'How am I to understand that?' asked Buckland, good-naturedly, though
with a knitting of his brows.

'Not as a doubt of Miss Moorhouse's sincerity. I can't see that a
belief in the Christian religion is excluded by any degree of
intellectual clearness.'

'No--your views have changed, Peak?'

'On many subjects, this among them.'

'I see.'

The words fell as if involuntarily from Warricombe's lips. He gazed at
the floor awhile, then, suddenly looking up, exclaimed:

'It would be civil to accept this without surprise, but it is too much
for me. How has it come about?'

'That would take me a long time to explain.'

'Then,' pursued his companion, watching him closely, 'you were quite in
sympathy with that exposition you gave at lunch today?'

'Quite. I hope there was nothing in my way of speaking that made you
think otherwise?'

'Nothing at all. I couldn't help wondering what it meant. You seemed
perfectly in earnest, yet such talk had the oddest sound on your
lips--to me, I mean. Of course I thought of you as I used to know you.'

'Naturally.' Peak was now in an attitude of repose, his legs crossed,
thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. 'I couldn't very well turn
aside to comment on my own mental history.'

Here again was the note of something like genial condescension.
Buckland seemed sensible of it, and slightly raised his eyebrows.

'I am to understand that you have become strictly orthodox in matters
of religious faith?'

'The proo