"Because—because I'm always distrustful of a priest," rejoined Jonathan. She gloried in it: he needed her. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. Like a petulant child he snapped. "I alone am to blame. ” Sir John frowned. CHAPTER XXIV. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. "You can't go to sea with a book of rules. I don’t want to stop your singing.
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