"I haf' to say only dis word. I goin' sdop by Jesus. Long time I subbose
I sdop by Jesus. I subbose--"

"Glory be to God!" remarked Ensign Sand again, spiking the guns of the
Duke's Own who were inclined to be amused. "That will do, thank you.
Now, is there nobody else? Speak up, friends. It'll do you no harm, none
whatever; it'll do you that much good you'll be surprised. Now, who'll
be the next to say a word for Jesus?" She was nodding encouragement at
the negro cook as if she knew him for a wavering soul, and he, sunk in
his gleaming white collar, was aware, in silent smiling misery, that the
expectations of the meeting were toward him. Laura had again hidden her
eyes in her hand. The negro fingered his watch chain foolishly, and
the prettiest of the East Indian half-castes tried hard to disguise her
perception that an African in his best clothes under conviction of sin
was the funniest thing in the world. The silence seemed to focus itself
upon the cook, who fumbled at his coat collar and cleared his voice. It
was a shock to all concerned when Stephen Arnold, picking up his hat,
got upon his feet instead.

"I also," he said, "would offer my humble testimony to the grace of
God--with all my heart."

It was as if he had repeated part of the creed in the performance of his
office. Then he turned and bent gravely to Lindsay, "Shall we go now?"
he whispered, and the two made their way to the door, leaving a silence
behind them which Lindsay imagined, on the part of Ensign Sand at least,
to be somewhat resentful. As they passed out a voice recovered itself,
and cried, "Hallelujah!" It was Laura's; and all the way to the
club--Arnold was dining with him there--Lindsay listened to his friend's