huge city's human tide? he wondered with dull interest.

"Is it a kind of religion?" he said.

"It's cheerfler." Glad thrust out her sharp chin uncertainly again.
"There's no 'ell fire in it. An' there ain't no blime laid on
Godamighty." (The word as she uttered it seemed to have no connection
whatever with her usual colloquial invocation of the Deity.) "When a
dray run over little Billy an' crushed 'im inter a rag, an' 'is mother
was screamin' an' draggin' 'er 'air down, the curick 'e ses, 'It's
Gawd's will,' 'e ses--an' 'e ain't no bad sort neither, an' 'is fice was
white an' wet with sweat--'Gawd done it,' 'e ses. An' me, I'd nussed the
child an' I clawed me 'air sime as if I was 'is mother an' I screamed
out, 'Then damn 'im!' An' the curick 'e dropped sittin' down on the
curbstone an' 'id 'is fice in 'is 'ands."

Dart hid his own face after the manner of the wretched curate.

"No wonder," he groaned. His blood turned cold.

"But," said Glad, "Miss Montaubyn's lidy she says Godamighty never done
it nor never intended it, an' if we kep' sayin' an' believin' 'e's
close to us an' not millyuns o' miles away, we'd be took care of whilst
we was alive an' not 'ave to wait till we was dead."

She got up on her feet and threw up her arms with a sudden jerk and
involuntary gesture.

"I 'm alive! I 'm alive!" she cried out, "I've got ter be took care of
NOW! That's why I like wot she tells about it. So does the women. We