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XIV

           “Howmuchlonger,”heburstout,“doyousupposeyoucanstandit?You’vebeenmagnificent,you’vebeeninspired,butwhat’stheuse?Youcan’twipeouttheignominyofit.It’smiserableforyouanditdoeshernogood!”

           Sheliftedavividface.“That’sthethoughtIcan’tbear!”shecried.

           “Whatthought?”

           “Thatitdoeshernogood—allyou’refeeling,allyou’resuffering.Canitbethatitmakesnodifference?”

           Heavoidedherchallengingglance.“What’sdoneisdone,”hemuttered.

           “Isitever,quite,Iwonder?”shemused.Hemadenoanswerandtheylapsedintooneofthepausesthatareasubterraneanchannelofcommunication.

           Itwasshewho,afterawhile,begantospeakwithanewsuffusingdiffidencethatmadehimturnarousedeyeonher.

           “Don’ttheysay,”sheasked,feelingherwayasinakindoftenderapprehensiveness,“thattheearlyChristians,insteadofpullingdowntheheathentemples—thetemplesoftheuncleangods—purifiedthembyturningthemtotheirownuses?I’vealwaysthoughtonemightdothatwithone’sactions—theactionsoneloathesbutcan’tundo.Onecanmake,Imean,awrongthedoortootherwrongsoranimpassablewallagainstthem....”Hervoicewaveredontheword.“Wecan’talwaysteardownthetempleswe’vebuilttotheuncleangods,butwecanputgoodspiritsinthehouseofevil—thespiritsofmercyandshameandunderstanding,thatmightneverhavecometousifwehadn’tbeeninsuchgreatneed....”

           Shemovedovertohimandlaidahesitatinghandonhis.

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