Edward Henry, who had begun to feel sympathetic, was somewhat repelled by these odd last remarks. After all the man, though human enough, was an utter stranger.
"No thanks," he said. "And so you're going to put up a church here?"
"Yes."
"Well, I wonder whether you are."
He walked abruptly away under Alloyd's riddling stare, and he could almost hear the man saying, "Well, he's a queer lot, if you like."
At the corner of the site, below the spot where his electric sign was to have been, he was stopped by a well-dressed middle-aged lady who bore a bundle of papers.
"Will you buy a paper for the cause?" she suggested in a pleasant, persuasive tone. "One penny."
He obeyed, and she handed him a small blue-printed periodical of which the title was "Azure, the Organ of the New Thought Church." He glanced at it, puzzled, and then at the middle-aged lady.
"Every penny of profit goes to the Church Building Fund," she said, as if in defence of her action.
Edward Henry burst out laughing; but it was a nervous, half-hysterical laugh that he laughed.