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seems quite at peace these days. He has been intensely devoted to his scripture over these past several weeks." |
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"Does he have bad times?" |
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The woman's pleasant smile faded, and she nodded dourly. |
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Mrs. Lancaster finished her tea, stood up and motioned for me to follow. We left the warmth of the parlor and walked down an austere corridor with a series of varnished hardwood doors. She stopped at the last one on the left and knocked quietly. |
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Myron Bell's door isn't the first door I've passed through only to be astonished. Perhaps that's because my mind paints elaborate mental images of things as I expect them to be under a set of given circumstances. At any rate, I was expecting the worstafter all, Myron Bell had been through the worstbut there he sat, a cherub of a man with a round soft face, beaming broadly. A massive, gilt-edged volume of the Bible was perched precariously on his robed lap. For some reason, he was younger than I had anticipatedlate forties to early fiftiesand he was confined to a rickety old wheelchair. |
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"This is the man I told you about, Reverend Bell, the American. Won't you say hello to Mr. Wages?" |
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The reverend extended a pudgy, too white, too soft hand in greeting. All traces |
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