Page:Conflict (1927).pdf/31

 So that was how the Nawns stood! And some day she might have to be a Nawn!

She could feel Felix above her there in the gallery now, gazing stealthily down upon her, his shoulders stooped, his head thrust forward, the saffron-colored light from a near-by stained-glass window, falling upon him, and making him look pale and sickly. Like a Chinaman. Yes, a Chinaman. That was what he was like, with his half-closed eyes, and yellow cast of color, and baggy clothes, and shuffling way of moving. Like a Chinaman in a laundry! A wave of repugnance for Felix swept over Sheilah, in the very wake of her wave of pity for him.

The long prayer came to an end. The minister gave out the number of a hymn. The organist played the opening bars of a martial anthem. Sheilah stood up with the hymn-book open before her.

There was a lancet window cut high up in the dark, cavernous region above the pulpit, a mere slit in the vaulted masonry, but big enough to admit a shaft of sunlight that came piercing down through the dust-motes of the dim interior of the church, and fell upon Sheilah. Sheilah felt the unexpected brightness on her (the window usually was covered by a shade), and looked up. And suddenly one of