“I’ve had no rows of penitents yet.”

“We may be coming,” said Hoppart.

He turned sideways to face the bishop.  “I think we should be coming if—­if it wasn’t for old entangled difficulties.  I don’t know if you will mind my saying it to you, but....”

The bishop returned his frank glance.  “I’d like to know above all things,” he said.  “If Mrs. Garstein Fellow will permit us.  It’s my business to know.”

“We all want to know,” said Lady Sunderbund, speaking from the low chair on the other side of the fireplace.  There was a vibration in her voice and a sudden gleam of enthusiasm in her face.  “Why shouldn’t people talk se’iously sometimes?”

“Well, take my own case,” said Hoppart.  “In the last few weeks, I’ve been reading not only in the Bible but in the Fathers.  I’ve read most of Athanasius, most of Eusebius, and—­I’ll confess it—­Gibbon.  I find all my old wonder come back.  Why are we pinned to—­to the amount of creed we are pinned to?  Why for instance must you insist on the Trinity?”

“Yes,” said the Eton boy explosively, and flushed darkly to find he had spoken.

“Here is a time when men ask for God,” said Hoppart.  “And you give them three!” cried Bent rather cheaply.  “I confess I find the way encumbered by these Alexandrian elaborations,” Hoppart completed.

“Need it be?” whispered Lady Sunderbund very softly.

“Well,” said the bishop, and leant back in his armchair and knitted his brow at the fire.  “I do not think,” he said, “that men coming to God think very much of the nature of God.  Nevertheless,” he spoke slowly and patted the arm of his chair, “nevertheless the church insists that certain vitally important truths have to be conveyed, certain mortal errors are best guarded against, by these symbols.”

“You admit they are symbols.”

“So the church has always called them.”

Hoppart showed by a little movement and grimace that he thought the bishop quibbled.

“In every sense of the word,” the bishop hastened to explain, “the creeds are symbolical.  It is clear they seek to express ineffable things by at least an extended use of familiar words.  I suppose we are all agreed nowadays that when we speak of the Father and of the Son we mean something only in a very remote and exalted way parallel with—­with biological fatherhood and sonship.”

Lady Sunderbund nodded eagerly.  “Yes,” she said, “oh, yes,” and held up an expectant face for more.

“Our utmost words, our most elaborately phrased creeds, can at the best be no better than the shadow of something unseen thrown upon the screen of experience.”

He raised his rather weary eyes to Hoppart as if he would know what else needed explanation.  He was gratified by Lady Sunderbund’s approval, but he affected not to see or hear it.  But it was Bent who spoke.

He spoke in the most casual way.  He made the thing seem the most incidental of observations.