"Come nearer the fire, Gifford." But Gifford only smiled good-naturedly, and leaned his elbow on the mantel, grasping his coat collar with one hand, and listening to Dr.Howe's questions about his niece.
"She's very well," he answered, "and the happiest woman I ever saw.

Those two people were made for each other, doctor." "Well, now, see here, young man," said the rector, who could not help patronizing Gifford, "you'll disturb that happiness if you get into religious discussions with Helen.

Women don't understand that sort of thing; young women, I mean," he added, turning to Miss Deborah, and then suddenly looking confused.
Gifford raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, well, Helen will reason, you know; she is not the woman to take a creed for granted." "She must," the rector said, with a chuckle, "if she's a Presbyterian.
She'll get into deep water if she goes to discussing predestination and original sin, and all that sort of thing." "Oh," said Gifford lightly, "of course she does not discuss those things.
I don't think that sort of theological rubbish had to be swept out of her mind before the really earnest questions of life presented themselves.
Helen is singularly free from the trammels of tradition--for a woman." Lois looked up, with a little toss of her head, but Gifford did not even notice her, nor realize how closely she was following his words.
"John Ward, though," Gifford went on, "is the most perfect Presbyterian I can imagine.

He is logical to the bitter end, which is unusual, I fancy.