"Quite so," said Ronder gravely. "That's rather what I'd thought myself. I noticed it once or twice last Sunday. But that's a fault on the right side. The boys behave admirably. I never saw better behaviour."
Ryle was now in his element. He let himself go, explaining this, defending that, apologising for one thing, hoping for another. Before he knew where he was he found himself at the turning above the monument that led to the High School.
"Here we part," he said.
"Why, so we do," cried Ronder.
"I do hope," said Ryle nervously, "that you'll come and see us soon. Mrs. Ryle will be delighted...."
"Why, of course I will," said Ronder. "Any day you like. Good-bye. Good- bye," and he went to Bentinck-Major's.
One look at Bentinck-Major's garden told a great deal about Bentinck- Major. The flower-beds, the trim over-green lawn, the neat paths, the trees in their fitting places, all spoke not only of a belief in material things but a desire also to demonstrate that one so believed....
One expected indeed to see the Bentinck-Major arms over the front-door. They were there in spirit if not in fact.
"Is the Canon in?" Ronder asked of a small and gaping page-boy.
He was in, it appeared. Would he see Canon Ronder? The page-boy disappeared and Ronder was able to observe three family trees framed in oak, a large china bowl with visiting-cards, and a huge round-faced clock that, even as he waited there, pompously announced that half-hour. Presently the Canon, like a shining Ganymede, came flying into the hall.