Sheilah said quietly, 'Would you feel badly to have me marry the son of a plumber?'
'A plumber?'
'Yes. Felix Nawn. His father is a plumber. The Nawns, you know. They go to our church. Aren't some plumbers nice?'
'Felix Nawn? The Nawns?' Sidney Miller groped. The vague outline of a slow-moving, slope-shouldered figure passing the contribution box in the east gallery, on Sunday, crossed his vision. 'Nawn? A plumber? Is he a plumber? I didn't know it. Of course some plumbers are nice. But what have you got to do with his son, Sheilah?'
'I've got to marry him. I've got to marry Felix Nawn, father.'
A sudden fear—a grotesque, nightmarish thing clutched hold of Sidney Miller. He shook it off. Why, she was only a child!
'Come, Sheilah. I guess that dream is still bothering you, isn't it?'
'No, my dream has nothing to do with Felix. It's not even about Felix. No, father, I know what I'm saying. I've got to marry him. I've tried not to, but there seemed to be powers working against me all the time, and now I can't get away from it. I've just got to marry him, father,' she reiterated. 'It will almost kill mother. Mother wanted something so different for me. That's why I've kept it secret from
