Dinner was a long, slow, massive affair, and the conversation was almost entirely carried on by Mr Herapath and Stephen; Michael Herapath said very little, and Aunt James confined herself to asking Stephen whether he believed in the Trinity. ‘Certainly, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘Well, I am glad someone does,’ said she. ‘Nearly all those scoundrels at Harvard are Unitarians, and their wives are worse.’
