But Mr. Dorward had finished his devotion before he answered.
"I was half way through before you told me. You should have spoken sooner."
"Well, I spoke as soon as I could."
"Very cunning of Satan," said Dorward meditatively. "Induced a cow to simulate the Angelus, and planted a thistle just where I was bound to kneel. Cunning. Cunning. Very cunning. I must go back now and confess to Ogilvie. Good example. Wait a minute, I'll confess to-morrow before Morning Prayer. Very good for Ogilvie's congregation. They're stuffy, very stuffy. It'll shake them. It'll shake Ogilvie too. Are you staying here to-night?"
"No, I shall bicycle back to Slowbridge and bicycle over to Mass to-morrow."
"Ridiculous. Stay the night. Didn't Ogilvie invite you?"
Mark shook his head.
"Scandalous lack of hospitality. They're all alike these country clergy. I'm tired of this walk. Let's go back and look after the turbot. Are you a good cook?"
"I can boil eggs and that sort of thing," said Mark.
"What sort of things? An egg is unique. There's nothing like an egg. Will you serve my Mass on Monday? Saying Mass for Napoleon on Monday."