"Heavens, man! have you no ambition? Here you are, with ten men's brains, and you sit—I don't know how you sit—in sackcloth, clearly, but whether for heaven or for Claudia I don't know. You think it odd to hear me preach ambition? I'm a lazy devil; but I have some power. Yes, I'm in my way a power. I might have been a greater. You might be a greater than ever I could."
Stafford listened.
"Do good if you can," Ayre went on, "and you can. But do something. Don't throw up the sponge because you had one fall. Make yourself something to live for."
"In the Church?"
"Yes—that suits you best. Your own Church or another. I've often wondered why you don't try the other."
"I've been very near trying it before now."
"It's a splendid field. Glorious! You might do anything."
Stafford was silent, and Ayre sat regarding him closely.
"Use my office for personal ambition?" he asked at last.
"Pray don't talk cant. Do some good work, and raise yourself high enough to do more."