“Doesn’t she look like Rubens’ second wife?” cried Athelny.  “Wouldn’t she look splendid in a seventeenth-century costume?  That’s the sort of wife to marry, my boy.  Look at her.”

“I believe you’d talk the hind leg off a donkey, Athelny,” she answered calmly.

She succeeded in buttoning her gloves, but before she went she turned to Philip with a kindly, slightly embarrassed smile.

“You’ll stay to tea, won’t you?  Athelny likes someone to talk to, and it’s not often he gets anybody who’s clever enough.”

“Of course he’ll stay to tea,” said Athelny.  Then when his wife had gone:  “I make a point of the children going to Sunday school, and I like Betty to go to church.  I think women ought to be religious.  I don’t believe myself, but I like women and children to.”

Philip, strait-laced in matters of truth, was a little shocked by this airy attitude.

“But how can you look on while your children are being taught things which you don’t think are true?”

“If they’re beautiful I don’t much mind if they’re not true.  It’s asking a great deal that things should appeal to your reason as well as to your sense of the aesthetic.  I wanted Betty to become a Roman Catholic, I should have liked to see her converted in a crown of paper flowers, but she’s hopelessly Protestant.  Besides, religion is a matter of temperament; you will believe anything if you have the religious turn of mind, and if you haven’t it doesn’t matter what beliefs were instilled into you, you will grow out of them.  Perhaps religion is the best school of morality.  It is like one of those drugs you gentlemen use in medicine which carries another in solution:  it is of no efficacy in itself, but enables the other to be absorbed.  You take your morality because it is combined with religion; you lose the religion and the morality stays behind.  A man is more likely to be a good man if he has learned goodness through the love of God than through a perusal of Herbert Spencer.”

This was contrary to all Philip’s ideas.  He still looked upon Christianity as a degrading bondage that must be cast away at any cost; it was connected subconsciously in his mind with the dreary services in the cathedral at Tercanbury, and the long hours of boredom in the cold church at Blackstable; and the morality of which Athelny spoke was to him no more than a part of the religion which a halting intelligence preserved, when it had laid aside the beliefs which alone made it reasonable.  But while he was meditating a reply Athelny, more interested in hearing himself speak than in discussion, broke into a tirade upon Roman Catholicism.  For him it was an essential part of Spain; and Spain meant much to him, because he had escaped to it from the conventionality which during his married life he had found so irksome.  With large gestures and in the emphatic tone which made what he said so striking, Athelny described to Philip the Spanish cathedrals with their vast dark