d vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could
persuade Mr. Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and
why worry about the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs.
Airedale had retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag.
Stealthily he went to the desk and explained that he was leaving
unexpectedly on business, and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale,
whose guest he had been. He slipped away out of the side door, and
caught the late train. Mrs. Airedale chafed her daughter that night for
whining in her sleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the
clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to
worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of
the lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing.
The congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see
Gissing appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on
the previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the
time usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps,
unfurled a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled
back into the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a
subconscious feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better
to have it done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice
that he was rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously.

"My friends," he said, "in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy
hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you
who gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great
affairs; accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick
imagination. I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort
you to carry into your religion the same enterprising and ambitious
gusto that has made your worldly careers a success. You are accustomed
to deal with great affairs. Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs
of God."

Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular
members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur.
Miss Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen
her since his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the
Airedale mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the
corner of the vestry-room. He feared she was angry