I shall use it in His service." They formed a curious physical contrast, these two women in this moment.
Joan, radiant, serene, sat upright in her chair, her head slightly thrown back, her fine hands clasping one another so strongly that the delicate muscles could be traced beneath the smooth white skin.

Madge, with puckered brows, leant forward in a crouching attitude, her thin nervous hands stretched out towards the fire.
"How does one know when one is serving God ?" she asked after a pause, apparently rather of herself than of Joan.

"It seems so difficult." "One feels it," explained Joan.
"Yes, but didn't they all feel it," Madge suggested.

She still seemed to be arguing with herself rather than with Joan.

"Nietzsche.