The high church was a stately pile of granite, with lofty spire and fine memorial windows.  Doves fluttered about the eaves.  Upon this particular Sunday morning there seemed to be something in the air that was not a component part of any of the elements.  It was simply a bit of news which the church-goers had read in the papers that morning.  To many a bud and belle it was a thunder-clap, a bolt from a cloudless heaven.  They whispered about it, lifted their eyebrows, and shrugged their shoulders.  But their mamas gave no sign.  If the fox of disappointment ate into their vitals, they determined, Spartan-like, that none should know it.  An actress!  Men might marry actresses in England, but Herculaneum still clung to the belief that actresses were not eligible.

Some of the men had seen Katherine Challoner act, and they sighed, retrospectively and introspectively.

“I feel for Mrs. Bennington and her daughter.  It must be a great blow to their pride.”  Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene sat down in her pew-seat and arranged her silk petticoats.  Mrs. Wilmington-Fairchilds sat down beside her.  “You know I never meddle with scandal.”

Mrs. Fairchilds nodded brightly.

“Never.  I never repeat anything I hear.  The Archibald affair was enacted right under my very nose; but did I circulate what I saw?  I think not!  That woman!—­but there!  I pray for her every night.”

“Was it really true, then?” asked Mrs. Fairchilds, breathless.  She knew something about the Archibald affair, but not enough.

“I saw it all with these eyes,” flatly.  “But, as I said, I keep my hands clean of scandal.”  Her hands were white and flabby.  “I consider it not only wicked to start a scandal, but positively bad taste.  The lightest word sometimes ruins a reputation.”

“Mrs. Archibald—­” began Mrs. Fairchilds.

“Not another word, my dear.  I’ve said nothing at all; I haven’t even told you what I saw.  But an actress is different.  Think of it, my dear!  She will live among us and we shall have to meet her.  Think of the actors who have kissed her in their make-believe love affairs!  It is so horribly common.  I have heard a good many things about her.  She has romped in studios in male attire and smokes cigarettes.  I should not want any son of mine to be seen with her.  I’m not saying a single word against her, mind you; not a single word.  You know as well as I do what a wild fellow Warrington is.  Well, she has been going around with him.”

“But they took him up in London,” said Mrs. Wilmington-Fairchilds.

“London!  London society, indeed!  It’s the greatest jumble in the world:  nobility hobnobs with jockeys, piano-players, writers and actors.”

Mrs. Fairchilds shook her head sadly.  She had always believed London society quite the proper thing, and she had followed the serials of “The Duchess” with reverent awe.  But Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene ought to know; she had traveled in Europe several seasons.  Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene was one of the prominent social leaders, and Mrs. Fairchilds had ambitions.  The ready listener gets along very well in this old world of ours.