"Then, knowing the Bishop's common sense, it seems highly probable to me that I shall be the man to get it," he responded.
"You won't, unless you try for it," Catia assured him.
He shook his head. The idea of ecclesiastical wirepulling was repugnant to his nature.
"One doesn't try for things of that kind, Catia," he answered.
"Then one doesn't get them," she retorted curtly.
It was Brenton who broke the next period of silence.
"Besides," he said, as if his sentences had followed each other without break; "I am not at all sure that my work here is done, by any means."
"Scott!" Catia put on the cover of the sugar bowl with a defiant clash. "Surely, you don't mean to stay buried in this little hole much longer?"
Once more his smile showed whimsical.
"Really, Catia, I hadn't thought about it as a hole," he said. "About my staying here or anywhere, I suppose it all depends upon the Bishop."