Chapter 68

And for a while there was silence between them, but Lance was thinking that—perhaps—Mary Merris had found it good to shed tears in this little, funny old room, wherein an old man who had looked on life had brought into being a beautiful faith in the essential somewhereness of God. Yes, and without dogmatism and without a contorted gruffness, but just as though he had grown to it by feeling and seeing and thinking. Lance looked out of the window. “I wonder if I ought to tell you, grandpater.” “Something about yourse…