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He needed careful
motherly guidance. All fools, she reflected, were subject to meteoric
gleams of common sense. He was no exception to that rule. But whereas
they received such flashes with thankfulness, he persisted in regarding
them as inspirations of the devil. That was the tragedy of Freddy
Parker. It made him into something quinessential--a kind of super-fool.
. . .
Mr. Keith enquired:
"You don't want to become a member of this institution, do you,
Bishop?"
The other pondered awhile.
"I am pretty democratic," he replied. "We have some warm places in
Africa, you know, and I never allowed myself to be beaten by them.
Perhaps I might be of use to some of those poor fellows in there. But I
like to do things properly. It would entail at first a little friendly
drinking, I'm afraid, in order to gain their confidence. It is not in
my character to do one thing and preach another. I cannot pose as an
abstainer after the way I enjoyed your luncheon. But the smell of the
whisky here--it scares me.


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