“The late war,” I propounded, “was not a good advertisement for Christian teaching.”
“Because Christianity has never been brought to men’s doors and into their lives.
‘What ragamuffin-saint
Believes God watches him continually,
As he believes in fire that it will burn,
Or rain that it will drench him?’
I often wonder what would have happened to Christianity if it had come into the world with our modern means of communication.”
We were still arguing when the rest of the party returned; and, until the brief winter twilight faded, we sat and spent Stornaway’s money for him. To this day I can see the half-circle of light dresses and the fire-fly movements of the men’s cigarettes; I can see faces white with avarice and eyes dark with excitement.
“Over a million a year . . .,” Barbara gasped.
“I told you we were going to be the big new noise in London,” said Sonia complacently. “George, of course, thinks he’s very superior.” . . .