Whenever the car drew up before a house he waited to catch a glimpse of a well scrubbed kitchen or of a softly lighted hall and to see how the servant would hold the jug and how she would close the door. In fact, after some talk about their favourite writers, Nash declared for Captain Marryat who, he said, was the greatest writer. The attitude of rapture in sacred art, the raised and parted hands, the parted lips and eyes as of one about to swoon, became for him an image of the soul in prayer, humiliated and faint before her Creator. Temple bent eagerly across Cranly's breast and said: --Did you hear MacAlister what he said? That youth is jealous of you.
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