‘Of course,’ Mr Lehr said, ‘my sister and I are Lutherans. We don’t hold with your Church, father. Too much luxury, it seems to me, while the people starve.’ Miss Lehr said, ‘Now, dear, it isn’t the father’s fault.’ ‘Luxury?’ the priest asked. He stood by the earthenware jar, glass in hand, trying to collect his thoughts, staring out over the long peaceful glassy slopes. ‘You mean …’ Perhaps Mr Lehr was right; he had lived very easily once and here he was, already settling down to idleness again.
