Alf went out as a man goes to execution. He returned to his now almost deserted garage to find there a note from the Archdeacon asking him to be good enough to call at the Rectory that afternoon.
Alf stood at the window and looked out with dull eyes. Now that the earth which three weeks since had felt so solid beneath his feet was crumbling away beneath him, he needed the backing of the Church more than ever; and for all his brave words to Mr. Spink, he was determined not to relinquish his position in it without a fight.
That afternoon he walked slowly up the hill to the Rectory.
Outside the white gate he stood in the road under the sycamore trees, gathering courage to make the plunge.
If was five o'clock.
A man got off the bus at Billing's Corner and came down the road towards him. Alf was aware of him, but did not at first see who he was.
"Not gone yet then?" said the man.
"No," Alf answered. "Got about as far as you—and that ain't very far."
"I'm on the way," answered Joe. "Going up to the camp in Summerdown now; and join up this evening."
"Ah," said Alf. "I'll believe it when I see it."