"Of course. That handicaps us tremendously. But...."
"Would a cheque—be of use?"
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, as if not quite sure of her meaning. Then he smiled and shook his head.
"You don't understand. One of the principles of our plan is to be beholden to no one. We can't accept gifts. You see—we want no vestries." There was a note of bitterness in his voice.
"But I—surely—" He sensed that she was a little hurt.
"We take up a collection. You might drop in some night, and then—if you cared to...."
"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I'll come."
They were silent for a little while, but it was a silence in which there was no consciousness of the flight of time.
"Who are your speakers?" asked Judith finally, already feeling that she had a personal share in the enterprise. "Clergymen?"
"Sometimes. But that's not essential. It's the man we seek—not the creed. We want anyone with a message. We've had all kinds. You see, we're not engaged in propaganda—rather we're spreading the truth—as all kinds of men see it. We're committed to nothing. It's a good deal like The Dispatch—no policy but the truth. By the way, how's that going?"