"I know that. Of course I know that. Ryle's case is only one small instance of the way the wind's blowing. Every one's got to do their share, of course. But in the last three months the place is changed--the Chapter's disorganised, there's rebellion in the Choir, among the Vergers, everywhere. The Cathedral is in pieces. And why? Who's changed everything? Why is nothing as it was three months ago?"
"Oh, Lord! what a bore the old man is!" thought Falk. He was in the last possible mood to enter into any of his father's complaints. They seemed now, as he looked across at him, to be miles apart. He felt, suddenly, as though he did not care what happened to his father, nor whether his feelings were hurt or no----
"Well, tell me!" said the Archdeacon, spreading his legs out, putting his hands behind his back and standing over his son. "Who's responsible for the change?"
"Oh, I don't know!" said Falk impatiently.
"You don't know? No, of course you don't know, because you've taken no interest in the Cathedral nor in anything to do with it. All the same, I should have thought it impossible for any one to be in this town half an hour and not know who's responsible. There's only one man, and that man is Ronder."
Unfortunately Falk liked Ronder. "I think Ronder's rather a good sort," he said. "A clever fellow, too."
The Archdeacon stared at him.
"You like him?"
"Yes, father, I do."
"And of course it matters nothing to you that he should be your father's persistent enemy and do his best to hinder him in everything and every way possible."