Of course it was unreasonable. The sign-post may remain embedded in
weeds: it notwithstanding points the way to the fair city. She told
herself this, but it left her still short-tempered. She didn't care
which way it pointed. She didn't believe there was any fair city.
There was a famous preacher. He lived the simple life in a small house
in Battersea, and consecrated all his energies to the service of the
poor. Almost, by his unselfish zeal, he had persuaded Joan of the
usefulness of the church. Mr. Airlie frequently visited him. They
interested one another. What struck Mr. Airlie most was the
self-sacrificing devotion with which the reverend gentleman's wife and
family surrounded him. It was beautiful to see. The calls upon his
moderate purse, necessitated by his wide-spread and much paragraphed
activities, left but a narrow margin for domestic expenses: with the
result that often the only fire in the house blazed brightly in the study
where Mr. Airlie and the reverend gentleman sat talking: while mother and
children warmed themselves with sense of duty in the cheerless kitchen.
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