She held her hymn-book, but she did not need it, and she watched surreptitiously while he opened the Bible, arranged some papers, and, in accordance with custom, knelt to pray.

She began to think half-thoughts of the days that might be, when perhaps she would be the wife of the Rector of some St.
John's, and later, possibly, of a Bishop.

Peter had it in him to go far, she knew.

She half glanced round with a self-conscious feeling that people might be guessing at her thoughts, and then back, wondering suddenly if she really knew the man, or only the minister.

And then there came the rustle of shutting books and of people composing themselves to listen, the few coughs, the vague suggestion of hassocks and cushions being made comfortable.