back her shoulders, sat up
stiffly, and tried to look as old as she might--that was not,
unhappily, very old. That smile exchanged with Martin had made her
happy for ever. Miss Avies was of less than no importance at all ...

The little bell ceased its jangling, the harmonium began a quavering
prelude, and from a door at the back, behind the little platform and
desk, three men entered: first Mr. Thurston; then a little crooked man
who must, Maggie knew, be Mr. Crashaw; finally, in magnificent
contrast, Mr. Warlock. A quiver of emotion passed over the
Chapel--there was then a hushed expectant pause.

"Brothers and sisters, let us pray," said Mr. Thurston.

Maggie had not seen him before; she wondered what strange chance had
led him and Mr. Warlock to work together. In every movement of the
body, in every tone of the voice, Thurston showed the professional
actor--his thoughts were all upon himself and the effect that he was
making. So calculated was he in his attitude that his eyes betrayed
him, having in their gleam other thoughts, other intentions very far
away from his immediate business in the Chapel. Maggie, watching him,
wondered what those thoughts were. His voice was ugly, as were all his
movements; his sharp actor's face, with the long rather dirty black
hair, the hooked nose, the long dirty fingers which moved in and out as
though they worked of themselves--all these things were false and
unmoving. But behind his harsh voice, gross accent and melodramatic
tone there was some power, the power of a man ambitious, ruthless,
scornful, self-confident. He did not care a snap of his fingers for his
congregation, he laughed at their beliefs, he made use of their
credulity.

"Oh God," he prayed, his voice now shrill and quivering and just out of
tune, so that it jarred every nerve in Maggie's body, "Thou seest what
we are, miserable sinners not worthy of Thy care or goodness, sunk deep
in the mire of evil living and evil 'abits, nevertheless, oh God, we,
knowing Thy loving 'eart towards Thy sinful servants, do pray Thee that
Thou wilt give us Thy blessing before we leave this Thy 'ouse this
night; a new contrite 'eart is what we beg of Thee, that we may go out
into this evil world taught by Thee to search out our ways and improve
our thoughts, caring for nothing but Thee, following in Thy footsteps
and making ready for Thy immediate Coming, which will be in Thine own
good time and according to Thy will."

"This we