Then he fell back upon another very primitive and ancient expedient.

Flinging his arms about her, he pressed her to his heart and kissed her again and again and again; nor, in her moment of complete surrender, did she scruple to kiss him back.
It was while they were thus engaged, offering a wonderful spectacle of love triumphant and rejoicing in its triumph, that another person who was passing the church bethought him of its shelter as a refuge from the pouring rain.

Seeing the open door, Mr.Knight, for it was he, slipped into the great building in his quiet, rather cat-like fashion, but on its threshold saw, and stopped.

Notwithstanding the shadows, he recognised them in a moment.

More, the sight of this pair, the son whom he disliked and the woman whom he hated, thus embraced, thus lost in a sea of passion, moved him to white fury, so that he lifted his clenched hands above his head and shook them, muttering: "And in my church, _my_ church!" Then unable to bear more of this spectacle, he slipped away again, heedless of the pouring skies.
By nature, although in obedience to a rash promise once he had married, Mr.Knight was a true woman-hater.