His cold, measured words repelled us and set us at an infinite distance from him.
We looked at one another and then at him, and he in turn studied us.
We four—for Mr. Severance had accompanied us, although as usual he scarcely opened his mouth—saw a man whose iron-gray hair indicated that he was a little beyond middle age. The lamp that burned beside him revealed a strong, rather sad face; the book at his elbow was a Bible. It came to me suddenly that he was a missionary.
"You give us chill welcome, sir," said Gideon North. "What, then, will you have us do to prove that we are not what you believe us?"
"Your leaders who were here a little while ago," our host replied, "tried their best to prove it—and failed. Indeed, had I not seen them, I should more readily believe you. It is not the first time that I have seen some of them, you must remember,"
Gideon North bit his lip. "Have you considered," he asked, "that we may not be in accord with them?"
"A man must be known by the company he keeps."
"We are in neither sympathy nor accord with them."
"It is a virtue, sir, no matter what your circumstances, to be at least loyal to your associates. If you so glibly repudiate your friends, on what grounds should a stranger trust you?"