Project Gutenberg's The Inside of the Cup, Volume 2, by Winston Churchill
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Inside of the Cup, Volume 2
Author: Winston Churchill
Release Date: October 17, 2004 [EBook #5357]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INSIDE OF THE CUP, VOLUME 2 ***
Produced by David Widger
THE INSIDE OF THE CUP
By Winston Churchill
Volume 2.
V. THE RECTOR HAS MORE FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
VI. "WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT"
VII. THE KINGDOMS OF THE WORLD
VIII. THE LINE of LEAST RESISTANCE.
CHAPTER V
THE RECTOR HAS MORE FOOD FOR THOUGHT
I
Sunday after Sunday Hodder looked upon the same picture, the winter light
filtering through emblazoned windows, falling athwart stone pillars, and
staining with rich colours the marble of the centre aisle. The organ
rolled out hymns and anthems, the voices of the white robed choir echoed
among the arches. And Hodder's eye, sweeping over the decorous
congregation, grew to recognize certain landmarks: Eldon Parr, rigid at
one end of his empty pew; little Everett Constable, comfortably, but
always pompously settled at one end of his, his white-haired and
distinguished-looking wife at the other. The space between them had once
been filled by their children. There was Mr. Ferguson, who occasionally
stroked his black whiskers with a prodigious solemnity; Mrs. Ferguson,
resplendent and always a little warm, and their daughter Nan, dainty and
appealing, her eyes uplifted and questioning.
The Plimptons, with their rubicund and aggressively healthy offspring,
were always in evidence. And there was Mrs. Larrabbee. What between
wealth and youth, independence and initiative, a widowhood now emerged
from a mourning unexceptionable, an elegance so unobtrusive as to border
on mystery, she never failed to agitate any atmosphere she entered, even
that of prayer. From time to time, Hodder himself was uncomfortably
aware of her presence, and he read in her upturned face an interest
which, by a little stretch of the imagination, might have been deemed
personal . . . .
Another was Gordon Atterbury, still known as "young Gordon," though his
father was
|