all alike, every one of them. One rarely meets a look that is pure."
Mr. Bondy pursed his lips for a whistle. Aha, so that's what it is! Old Machat's religious community!
"Yes," Ellen replied to his thoughts. "You ought to come and join us."
"Oh, of course," cried Mr. Bondy; and in his mind he said, "A nice girl like this! It's a shame."
"Why is it a shame?" asked Ellen gently.
"Oh, come, Ellen," protested Bondy. "You are a thought-reader. That isn't fair. If people were to read each other's thoughts they could never decently associate with one another. It's very indiscreet of you to know what I am thinking."
"What am I to do?" said Ellen. "Everyone who knows God has this same gift. Every one of your thoughts is born in my mind as soon as in yours. I don't read it, I have it myself. If you only knew how purifying it is when one can judge of every hidden baseness!"
"Hm," muttered Mr. Bondy, trembling lest anything should cross his mind.
"It is indeed," Ellen assured him. "It has cured me, with the help of God, of the love of riches. I should be ever so glad if the scales were to fall from your eyes, too."
"God forbid," exclaimed G. H. Bondy, horrified.
