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 never heard of that idea. I'd thought the saints were over long ago; I'd seen old pictures of them when I was a child. I thought yours was a beautiful idea. It helped me so."

"It is not only an idea, it is quite true."

"I know. But it was beautiful of you to think of it."

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," said the Vicar, half aloud.

"But then, of course, I supposed there must still be saints. And I thought of two or three people, then of quite a number. Ladies I have met, who have affected me—most strongly—and one dear boy I know"

"We have most of us been privileged"

"Don't you think," she said, with round eyes, "that saints must often seem quite unconventional?"

"In so far as conventionality is error—yes."

"There," she cried, "I knew you'd agree with me. Wouldn't you describe a saint as somebody who, going ahead by their own light"

"By a light that is given them"

"That's what I meant— doesn't care what