'If I move, you'll move too, and uncertainty will begin for me again,' he seemed to say.
Mr. Pendyce disengaged his leg, rose, and went to the door. Before reaching it he turned and came back to the table.
“Barter,” he said, “I'm not thinking of myself— I'm not thinking of myself—we've been here for generations—it's the principle.” His face had the least twist to one side, as though conforming to a kink in his philosophy; his eyes looked sad and restless.
And the Rector, watching the door for the sight of his enemy, also thought:
'I'm not thinking of myself— I'm satisfied that I did right— I'm Rector of this parish it's the principle.'
The spaniel John gave three short barks, one for each of the persons who entered the room. They were Mrs. Pendyce, Mr. Paramor, and Gregory Vigil.
“Where's George?” asked the Squire, but no one answered him.
The Rector, who had resumed his seat, stared at a little gold cross which he had taken out of his waistcoat pocket. Mr. Paramor lifted a vase and sniffed at the rose it contained; Gregory walked to the window.
When Mr. Pendyce realised that his son had not come, he went to the door and held it open.
“Be good enough to take John out, Margery,” he said. “John!”