I am to divide with you," which was as near to a fib as the young clergyman ever got in his blameless life.
"I shall thank him," returned Grace simply, "and return to my pipe, but I do sometimes think it is too weak an indulgence of a slavish habit." "Hardly worth while to thank Penhallow; he will have forgotten all about it." "But I shall not." They smoked and talked politics, and the village and their work, until at last, after one of the pipe-filling pauses, Grace said, "I ought not to have taken that cider, but it singularly refreshed me.

You did not partake." "No, it disagrees with me." "I feel it, Brother Rivers.

I feel it slightly, and--I--a man who preaches temperance, total abstinence--" "My dear Grace, that is not temperance.

There may be intemperance in the way a man puts his opinions before others--a man may hurt his own cause--" Grace returned quickly, "You were in our church Wednesday night--I saw you.

You think I was intemperate ?" "Frankly, yes.