Mr. Bentley turned away, walking towards the end of the room . . . .
Asa Waring broke the silence.

"I didn't know that you knew him, that you had seen what he is doing
--what he has done in this city. I cannot trust myself, Mr. Hodder, to
speak of Horace Bentley's life. . . I feel too strongly on the
subject. I have watched, year by year, this detestable spirit of greed,
this lust for money and power creeping over our country, corrupting our
people and institutions, and finally tainting the Church itself. You
have raised your voice against it, and I respect and honour and thank you
for it, the more because you have done it without resorting to sensation,
and apparently with no thought of yourself. And, incidentally, you have
explained the Christian religion to me as I have never had it explained
in my life.

"I need not tell you you have made enemies--powerful ones. I can see
that you are a man, and that you are prepared for them. They will leave
no stone unturned, will neglect no means to put you out and disgrace you.
They will be about your ears to-morrow--this afternoon, perhaps. I need
not remind you that the outcome is doubtful. But I came here to assure
you of my friendship and support in all you hope to accomplish in making
the Church what it should be. In any event, what you have done to-day
will be productive of everlasting good."

In a corner still lingered the group which Mr. Bentley had joined. And
Hodder, as he made his way towards it, recognized the faces of some of
those who composed it. Sally Grower was there, and the young women who
lived in Mr. Bentley's house, and others whose acquaintance he had made
during the summer. Mrs. Garvin had brought little Dicky, incredibly
changed from the wan little figure he had first beheld in the stifling