It was the faith of his curate that had thus set his wife before him, although the two would hardly have agreed in any confession narrower than the Apostles' creed.
When Wingfold entered the room, the rector rose, went halfway to meet him, and shook hands with him heartily.

They seated themselves, and a short silence followed.

But the rector knew it was his part to speak.
"I was in church this morning," he said, with a half-humorous glance right into the clear gray eyes of his curate.
"So my wife tells me," returned Wingfold with a smile.
"You didn't know it then ?" rejoined the rector, with now an almost quizzical glance, in which hovered a little doubt.

"I thought you were preaching at me all the time." "God forbid!" said the curate; "I was not aware of your presence.

I did not even know you were in the town yesterday." "You must have had some one in your mind's eye.