"Oh, well, they didn't actually kill them, but they tried to do so, it appears, and you know what the Bible says about having murder in the heart."
Douglas made no reply to these words but went on with his dinner. It was only when he and Mr. Garton were comfortably ensconced in big chairs in the library, enjoying a quiet smoke, that Douglas referred to the subject which had been abruptly dropped.
"Do you know much about Rixton?" he asked.
"Quite a bit, from hearsay. It's a queer community, so I understand, and the Church has had a mighty hard struggle there."
"What's wrong with it, anyway?"
"I can't exactly say. But no clergyman has been able to hold his own there for years. It may have been their fault, and perhaps if the right man goes to the parish, things might be all right. I wish to goodness you were going anywhere else than to Rixton. I wonder what the Bishop is thinking about to send you to that place."
"Merely because he thinks that I know the ways of such people, as I was brought up in the country."
"We want you here in the city, though," and Garton savagely blew a great cloud of smoke across the room.
"But Dr. Rannage and the majority of the people of St. Margaret's don't want me. They are delighted to think that I am going."
"Yes, so I understand, confound their skins! They want some little snipper-snapper who can dance attendance upon all the pink-teas that are held, and shine in social circles."