She could not feel for the moment anything but a startled surprise at the ugliness of the building.

She had entered at different times the Glebeshire chapels, but their primitive position and need had given them the spirit of honest sincerity.

Here she had expected she did not know what.

Always from those very early days when she had first heard about her aunts she had had visions of a strange illuminated place into which God, "riding on a chariot clothed in flames," would one day come.

Even after she had grown up she had still fancied that the centre of her aunts' strange, fantastic religion must be a strange, fantastic place.