"A gospel that origins and ends don't matter and that we ought to be influenced by them not at all; that God is veiled, but the veil is good; that we are kin to all that is; that barriers are of our own making; that the urge of life within us is our guide; and that moralities and revelations and false spiritualities have themselves made sin. And," she added slowly, "that the true spiritual life consists in the pursuit of learning, experience and beauty, according to vocation, without fear and for themselves alone."
"Fear?" queried Arnold.
"Yes, without fear. The gospel of the Beggar-Man banishes fear. He knows right values. He knows he cannot be robbed of anything that matters. He fears no man; all men are brothers; all are blind beggars with potential sight; he has nothing but pity for your aristocrat, your millionaire."
"'News from Nowhere'," chuckled Arnold.
"True—with the path blazoned to it," she exclaimed.
"It appears to be you and not Paul who is preaching anyway," put in Ursula, staring into the fire.
"He will live it, and he will sing it—and you will paint it," cried Muriel.
"Which reminds me," said Paul gravely, "that I've to go down to Claxted to-morrow."
"Claxted?"
"Yes, to my people. I've utterly neglected them lately. They don't even know I've written a play."