“But, Miss Tracy,” he asked, “if I am right why are not the men of my parish with me? If they were with me to-day, if we were acting as one, Christ Church would be a power in the alleviation of distress. As it is we are almost helpless.”
At that her anger rose. She had not been able to forgive the men who were permitting Christ Church and its charities to go to wreck in a time like this, because of their resentment toward the rector.
“They are not with you because their hearts are evil,” she declared. “Because they have no conception of the real meaning of Christ’s religion. They are not Christians. They are scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! I detest them!”
He stopped in his walk and looked down on her. Her cheeks were blazing. Her eyes were flashing with indignation. It was plain that her patience with the men who had hampered and hindered the rector of Christ Church in his work of saving the bodies and souls of the poor was exhausted.
“Thank you!” he said. “That was not pious, but it was most comforting.”
He went and sat down opposite to her at the library table on which her hands were lying as she faced him.
“And you have been my comfort,” he added, “through all these dreadful weeks.”
“I am glad,” she replied, “that I could be of service to you.” But the aggressive note in her voice was gone, and her eyes were turned from him.
He reached over and took her hands, one in each of his.