At least one likes to hope so."
"I somehow think," she ventured timidly, "that yours
would be classic."
Finlay withdrew his glance abruptly from the falling
blossoms as if they had tempted him to an expansion he
could not justify. He was impatient always of the personal
note, and in his intercourse with Miss Murchison he seemed
of late to be constantly sounding it.
"Oh, I don't know," he said, almost irritably. "I only
meant that I see the obvious things, while you seem to
have an eye for the subtle. There's reward, I suppose,
in seeing anything. But about those more delicate
appreciations of societies longer evolved, I sometimes
think that you don't half realize, in a country like
this, how much there is to make up."
"Is there anything really to make up?" she asked.
"Oh, so much! Freedom from old habits, inherited problems:
look at the absurd difficulty they have in England in
handling such a matter as education! Here you can't even
conceive it--the schools have been on logical lines from
the beginning, or almost. Political activity over there
is half-strangled at this moment by the secular arm of
religion; here it doesn't even impede the circulation!
Conceive any Church, or the united Churches, for the
matter of that, asking a place in the conduct of the
common schools of Ontario! How would the people take it?
With anger, or with laughter, but certainly with sense.
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