And finally, despite himself, he had begun to learn, to read and study for pleasure, to realize that perhaps the life of the mind was not as deadly dull as he had always assumed. And then had come his meeting with Jonathan Forbes, a fellow student who had been much influenced by the Methodist preachers. Drinking, partying, womanizing had all been gradually and unconsciously neglected as he spent more and more time discussing and arguing with his new friend and a few other acquaintances.

And the end of it all was that he had found himself a changed man. Not a Methodist. He believed strongly in the established church, did not believe that fragmenting it could ever achieve any good. But he had found that his religion had come alive for him and that his desire to be a clergyman was no longer a matter of necessity, but one of deep personal commitment.

Since then David had no longer been bitter about his lot. Indeed he blessed the fate that had made it necessary for him to think beyond the next day's entertainment. No longer was he ambitious for the most glamorous job the church could offer. He wanted only to serve as a man of God was meant to serve, working mainly with the poorest of the poor. He was no longer interested in the acquisition of money or position or possessions. It was not that he gave them up in a spirit of painful self-denial. He just lost interest in them.

And he was happy. He had spent two years of utter contentment at Oxford. If there was one fact to disturb that mood, it was only his impatience to have a living of his own so that he could begin his life of service. And now he had that living. He had been extremely fortunate to find himself qualified at almost the same moment that the vicar in Algie's parish was retiring. He had not expected something so satisfactory quite so soon. He had accepted the offer with alacrity.