Till now there had been no Lord God walking in her garden in the
cool of the day. Only her mother, and she was easy to evade. She had
never been really afraid, nor felt her little soul naked till now, with
the ugly little man's bright brown eyes upon her, and his words
shivering through her like winds about the unprotected. Hideous things
she had forgotten flung into view and challenged her; and somewhere in
the room there seemed to be One who dared to call her to account. She
looked fiercely back to the speaker, her delicate brows drawn darkly,
her great blue-black eyes fierce in their intensity, her whole face and
attitude a challenge to the sermon. Courtland, absorbed as he was in
what the speaker had to say, thrilling with the message that came to his
soul welcomely, became aware of the tense little figure by his side,
and, looking down, was pleased that she had forgotten her nonsense and
was listening, and somehow missed the defiance in her attitude.
Gila did not smile when service was over. She went out haughtily,
impatiently, looking about on the throng contemptuously. When Courtland
asked her if she would like to stop a minute and meet the preacher she
threw up her chin with a toss and a "No, indeed!" that left no doubt for
lingering.
Out in the street, away from the crowd somewhat, she suddenly stopped
and stamped her little foot: "I think that man is perfectly
_disgusting_!" she cried.
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