He stared into the darkness. Where was money to come
from--those miserable fifteen pounds, for example? What would happen?
He almost decided upon praying, only he could not think of appropriate
words in which to appeal for this loan; it might seem to the Deity a
contemptuously small sum, not worth bothering the angels about. On the
other hand he dared not apply for more than he actually needed--not to
that quarter, at least--for fear of being found out. He was always being
found out, even by his earthly creditors. Besides, there lingered at
the back of his mind all the time certain doubts as to the efficacy of
applying to God for money or anything else. The whole thing might be a
farce. He remembered, with pain and grief, that he had already on
several occasions tried the prayer-system, like most other systems. And
alas, the results had invariably been NIL. . . .
A visit from His Reverence the parroco was announced.
This heroic priest, accompanied by two acolytes bearing torches, had
braved the downpour of ashes.
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