'I see.'
The words fell as if involuntarily from Warricombe's lips. He gazed at the floor awhile, then, suddenly looking up, exclaimed:
'It would be civil to accept this without surprise, but it is too much for me. How has it come about?'
'That would take me a long time to explain.'
'Then,' pursued his companion, watching him closely, 'you were quite in sympathy with that exposition you gave at lunch today?'
'Quite. I hope there was nothing in my way of speaking that made you think otherwise?'
'Nothing at all. I couldn't help wondering what it meant. You seemed perfectly in earnest, yet such talk had the oddest sound on your lips—to me, I mean. Of course I thought of you as I used to know you.'
'Naturally.' Peak was now in an attitude of repose, his legs crossed, thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. 'I couldn't very well turn aside to comment on my own mental history.'
Here again was the note of something like genial condescension. Buckland seemed sensible of it, and slightly raised his eyebrows.
'I am to understand that you have become strictly orthodox in matters of religious faith?'