Row after row of black faces looked back at him questioningly. He stood there for a moment, uncomfortable that he had interrupted the service, seeing in the eyes that gazed at him that he had no right there and was not welcome. A wave of resentment flowed through the congregation, a murmur of whispered voices melting toward anger. He wanted to speak, to tell them that he was not one of the white men who desecrated their church with their poker playing, but he could not find the words to say it.
