Festival, Mrs Wine’s flowers, the new offertory-bags, and all that. For God’s sake, Vicar, it is not as bad as—as they make out?’ 

 Mr Bethany woke with a start. He leaned forward, and stretched out a long black wrinkled sleeve, just managing to reach far enough to tap Lawford’s knee. ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry,’ he said soothingly. ‘We believe, we believe.’ 

 It was, none the less, a sheer act of faith. He took off his spectacles and took out his handkerchief. ‘What we must do, eh, my dear,’ he half turned to Mrs Lawford, ‘what we must do is to consult, yes, consult together. And later—we must have advice—medical advice; unless, as I very much suspect, it is merely a little quite temporary physical aberration. Science, I am told, is making great strides, experimenting, groping after things which no sane man has ever dreamed of before—without being burned alive for it. What’s in a name? Nerves, especially, Lawford.’ 

 Mrs Lawford sat perfectly still, absorbedly listening, turning her face first this way, then that, to each speaker in turn. ‘That is what I thought,’ she said, and cast one fleeting glance across at the fireplace, ‘but—’ 

 The little old gentleman turned sharply with half-blind eyes, and lips tight shut. ‘I think,’ he said, with a hind of austere humour, ‘I think, do you know, I see no “but.”’ He paused as if to catch the echo and added, ‘It’s our only course.’ He continued to polish round and round his glasses. Mrs Lawford rather magnificently rose. 

 ‘Perhaps if I were to leave you together awhile? I shall not be far off. It is,’ she explained, as if into a huge vacuum, ‘it is a terrible visitation.’ She moved gravely round the table and very softly and firmly closed the door after her. 

 Lawford took a deep breath. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘you realise my wife does not believe me. She thinks,’ he explained naively, as if to himself, ‘she thinks I am an imposter. Goodness knows what she does think. I can’t think much myself—for long!’ 

 The vicar rubbed busily on. ‘I have found, Lawford,’ he said smoothly, ‘that in all real difficulties the only feasible plan is—is to face the main issue. The others right themselves. Now, to take a plunge into your generosity. You have let me in far enough to make it impossible for me to get out—may I hear then exactly the whole story? All that I know now, so far as I could gather from your wife, poor soul, is of course inconceivable: that you went out one man and came home 

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