“‘A little bird whispers to me that Robert Phillips was seen walking across Richmond Park the other afternoon in company with Miss Joan Allway, formerly one of our contributors.’ Is that going to end his political career?” retorted Joan with fine sarcasm. She must have knelt and stood mechanically, for the service was ended. The pulpit was occupied by an elderly uninteresting-looking man with a troublesome cough. But one sentence he had let fall had gripped her attention. For a moment she could not remember it, and then it came to her: “All Roads lead to Calvary.” It struck her as rather good. Perhaps he was going to be worth listening to. “To all of us, sooner or later,” he was saying, “comes a choosing of two ways: either the road leading to success, the gratification of desires, the honour and approval of our fellow-men—or the path to Calvary.”!

“It was clever of him to make use of you,” he said. “If he’d sent it through anybody else, I’d have published it.” “You don’t mean a party?” asked Joan.

“How does one know when one is serving God?” she asked after a pause, apparently rather of herself than of Joan. “It seems so difficult.” “Is it impossible, then, to combine duty and success?” questioned Joan. “Is it settled yet?” asked Joan. “Are they going to make room for him in the Cabinet?