“I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my parson.”
“I'm NOT your parson any longer,” declared Douglas. He faced Strong squarely. He was master of his own affairs at last. Polly clung to him, begging and beseeching.
“Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!”
“What do you mean by that?” shouted Strong.
“I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow-minded congregation before, because I believed you needed me. But now this girl needs me more. She needs me to protect her from just such injustice as yours.”
“You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you.”
“I can do that WITHOUT your advice.”
“Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl a-hangin' 'round your neck.”
“He's right,” cried Polly. “You couldn't.” She clung to the pastor in terrified entreaty. “You COULDN'T get another church. They'd never, never forgive you. It's no use. You've got to let me go! you've GOT to!”
“Listen, Polly.” He drew her toward him. “God is greater than any church or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE—HIS work.”