Towneley had not argued with
him; he had said one word only, and that one of the shortest in the
language, but Ernest was in a fit state for inoculation, and the minute
particle of virus set about working immediately.
Which did he now think was most likely to have taken the juster view of
life and things, and whom would it be best to imitate, Towneley or Pryer?
His heart returned answer to itself without a moment's hesitation. The
faces of men like Towneley were open and kindly; they looked as if at
ease themselves, and as though they would set all who had to do with them
at ease as far as might be. The faces of Pryer and his friends were not
like this. Why had he felt tacitly rebuked as soon as he had met
Towneley? Was he not a Christian? Certainly; he believed in the Church
of England as a matter of course. Then how could he be himself wrong in
trying to act up to the faith that he and Towneley held in common? He
was trying to lead a quiet, unobtrusive life of self-devotion, whereas
Towneley was not, so far as he could see, trying to do anything of the
kind; he was only trying to get on comfortably in the world, and to look
and be as nice as possible.
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