At the door a bright new gig, with red wheels, caught her eye, and before the mischievous dimples had fled from her cheek, she ran into the arms of the Reverend Orlando Mullen.
Her confusion brought a beautiful colour into his cheeks, while, in a chivalrous effort to shield her from further embarrassment, he turned his eyes to the face of Judy Hatch, which was lifted at his side like the rapt countenance of one of the wan-featured, adoring saints of a Fra Angelico painting.

No one--not even the nurse of his infancy--had ever imputed a fault either to his character or to his deportment; for he had come into the world endowed with an infallible instinct for the commonplace.

In any profession he would have won success as a shining light of mediocrity, since the ruling motive of his conduct was less the ambition to excel than the moral inability to be peculiar.

His mind was small and solemn, and he had worn three straight and unyielding wrinkles across his forehead in his earnest endeavour to prevent people from acting, and especially from thinking, lightly.

This sedulous devotion to the public morals kept him not only a trifle spare in figure, but lent an habitual manner of divine authority to his most trivial utterance.
His head, seen from the rear, was a little flat, but this, fortunately, did not show in the pulpit--where at the age of twenty-four his eloquence enraptured his congregation.
"I postponed my visit to Applegate until to-morrow," he said, when he had given her what he thought was sufficient time to recover her composure.