When he was walking home with
Mrs. Fenton after the session was over, he was so absorbed that she
rallied him on his absent-mindedness.
"I was thinking of the discussion," he said. "I am afraid that Father
Frontford injured himself this morning."
"But how noble it was of him to say what he believed in spite of the
chances," she responded. "I was delighted with Mr. Candish for
seconding him as he did."
"Yes," Ashe said, a pang of jealousy piercing him at the mention of Mr.
Candish. "It was fine. What I cannot make out," he added, "is whether
Mr. Strathmore is as simple and candid as he looks. He always seems to
speak sincerely and freely, and yet he somehow contrives never to say
anything that might not have been thought out with the most clever
policy."
"I cannot make out either," returned she. "Mr. Fenton used rather
paradoxically to say that Mr. Strathmore was too frank by half to be
honest."
She sighed as she spoke, and instantly all thought of bishops and
church matters vanished from the mind of Ashe. He became entirely
absorbed in wondering how warm was Mrs. Fenton's affection for her dead
husband and in hating himself for the thought.
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