CHAPTER V.


THE PRISONER.

When Vernon looked back on that interview he was honestly pleased with
himself. He had been patient, he had been kind even. In the end he had
been positively chivalrous. He had hardly allowed himself to be
ruffled for an instant, but had met the bitter flow of Mr. Underwood's
biblical language with perfect courtesy.

He regretted, of course, deeply, this unfortunate misunderstanding.
Accident had made him acquainted with Miss Desmond's talent, he had
merely offered her a little of that help which between brother
artists--The well-worn phrase had not for the Rector the charm it had
had for Betty.

The Rector spoke again, and Mr. Vernon listened, bare-headed, in
deepest deference.

No, he had not been holding Miss Desmond's hand--he had merely been
telling her fortune. No one could regret more profoundly than he,--and
so on. He was much wounded by Mr. Underwood's unworthy suspicions.

The Rector ran through a few texts. His pulpit denunciations of
iniquity, though always earnest, had lacked this eloquence.

Vernon listened quietly.

"I can only express my regret that my thoughtlessness should have