If you met some of your servants in the streets (I respectfully suppose for a moment that the reader is a person of high fashion and a great establishment), you would not know their faces.
You might sleep under the same roof for half a century and know nothing about them.

If they were ill, you would not visit them, though you would send them an apothecary and of course order that they lacked for nothing.

You are not unkind, you are not worse than your neighbours.
Nay, perhaps, if you did go into the kitchen, or to take the tea in the servants'-hall, you would do little good, and only bore the folks assembled there.

But so it is.

With those fellow-Christians who have been just saying Amen to your prayers, you have scarcely the community of Charity.