"You never know with these churches——"
Roddy thought "He's afraid of his old mother. Doesn't want me to marry Rachel, but he's afraid of his old mother."
"Massiter's getting fat——" This was Lord John's contribution.
"Yes—so's that novelist feller——"
"Oh! Garden! Yes—ever read anything of his?"
"Never a line. Never read novels."
"Not bad—good tales, you know."
"He's probably," Roddy thought, "had a row with the old lady about me——"
Then, strangely enough, the notion hit him—"Wish it was he wanted me to marry Rachel and the Duchess didn't—Wish she didn't, by Gad."
As they entered the church Roddy might have seen, had he been gifted in psychology, that there was in Lord John's face the look of a man who had fought a battle with his dark angel and been, alas, defeated.