To Nancy Allan retold this, adding, "You know, I'm going to use it in a sermon some time." "Yes--it's very funny," she answered, a little uncertainly.
"Funny ?" "Yes." "Do you think so ?" "Of course--I've heard the bishop tell it myself--and I know _he_ thinks it funny." "Well--then I'll use it as a funny story.

Of course, it _is_ funny--I only thought"-- what it was he only thought Nancy never knew.
Small bits of things to wonder at, these were, and the wonder brought no illumination.

She only knew there were times when they two seemed of different worlds, bereft of power to communicate; and at these times his superbly assured wooing left her slightly dazed.
But there were other times, and different--and slowly she became used to the idea of him--persuaded both by his own court and by the spirited encomiums that he evoked from Aunt Bell.
Aunt Bell was at that time only half persuaded by Allan to re-enter the church of her blameless infancy.

She was still minded to seek a little longer outside the fold that _rapport_ with the Universal Mind which she had never ceased to crave.

In this process she had lately discarded Esoteric Buddhism for Subliminal Monitions induced by Psychic Breathing and correct breakfast-food.