“And his soul?” queried Trix simply.
Doctor Hilary shook his head.
“Ah, that I don’t know,” he said.
They parted company at the door of Doctor Hilary’s house. Trix went on slowly down the road. She paused opposite the presbytery, before turning to the left in the direction of Woodleigh. She rang the bell, and asked to see Father Dormer.
He came to her in the little parlour.
“Oh,” said Trix, getting up as he entered, “I only came to ask you to say a Mass for my intention. And, please, will you say one every week till I ask you to stop?”
“By all means,” he responded.
“Thank you,” said Trix. Then she glanced at a clock on the mantelpiece. “I had no idea it was so late,” she said.
She walked home at a fair pace. The midge bite had ceased to worry her. But then, at Doctor Hilary’s suggestion, she had ceased to rub it. She was thinking of only one thing now, of a solitary old figure in a large and gloomy library.
She sighed heavily once or twice. Well, at all events she had asked for Masses for him.