re to bear on secular affairs.
In all this he assumed politely that the Crusade could succeed, but the
lift of his brows which accompanied the concession was very eloquent.

"Then," he ended apologetically, "there's the danger of vulgarity. One
puts up with that in politics, but I confess I shrink from it in
religion."

"What appeals to everybody is not necessarily vulgar," said the Dean.

"Not necessarily," Marchmont agreed, with the emphasis on the second
word. "But," he added, "it's almost of necessity untrue, and after all
religion has to do with truth." He was getting near his ultimates again.

There was a pause; then Marchmont laughed and said jokingly,

"You'll have to go to the Radicals, Dick. They're the dogmatic party
nowadays, and they'll be just as ready to manage your soul for you as
they are your property."

"That's just what I don't mean to do," said Dick obstinately. But he
looked a little uncomfortable. It was important to preserve the attitude
that fighting the Radicals was no part of the scheme of the Crusade.
Marchmont smiled at the Dean across the table.

"I love the Church, Mr. Dean," he said, "but I'm afraid of the churchmen."

"Much what I feel about politics and politicians."

"Then if churchmen are politicians too----?" Marchmont suggested; the
Dean's laughter admitted a verbal defeat. But when Marchmont had gone he
shook his head over him again, saying, "He'll not be great; he's much too
sane."

"He's too scrupulous," said Dick. The Dean protested with a smile. "I
mean too fastidious," Dick added, correcting himself.

"Yes, yes, too fastidious," agreed the Dean contentedly. "And when I said
sane perhaps I rather meant cautious, unimaginative, and cold." Both felt
the happier for the withdrawal of their hastily chosen epithets.

This conversation had occurred in the early days of Dick's acquaintance
with Alexander Quisante, when, although already much taken with the man,
he had a clearer view of what he was than enthusiasm allowed later on.
Rejecting Marchmont, or rather acquiescing in Marchmont's refusal, on the
ground of his excessive caution, his want of imagination, and his
fastidiousness, he had hesitated to sound Quisante in regard to the great
project. It seemed to him impossible to regard his new friend as an ideal
leader for this purpose; one reason is enough to indicate--the ideal
leader should be absolutely unselfish by nature. By nature Quisante was
very far from that,