"I give that up," said Rotha. "I see what you think."
"Never mind what I think—for once," said he smiling. "Try the question on its own merits."
"I give that up," Rotha repeated. "Except for odds and ends of chances, it does take a fearful amount of time, and money too. But go on, Mr. Digby; I am getting dreadfully interested."
"You can go on without my help."
"But I want it. Please go on."
"You can transfer to eyes and ears and lips and feet what I have said about hands. All would be the Lord's servants. Have I anything else left to give, if I have once given my body a living sacrifice?"
"No. Nothing. But why did I never see that before?"
"What do you think of it, now you do see it?"
"It is grand!" said the girl thoughtfully. "And beautiful. Such a life would be woven all of golden threads. But Mr. Southwode, it would make one different from everybody else in the whole world!"
"Did not Jesus say? 'Ye are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.' And—'Therefore the world hateth you.'"