"Yes, if you like."
He nodded contentedly, and as they went in to dinner he whispered:—
"I found the adventure—rather serious."
Dinner passed pleasantly enough. Errington and Stair contributed most of the conversation, the former proving himself a charming guest, and it was evident that the two men had taken a great liking to each other. It would have been a difficult subject indeed who did not feel attracted by Alan Stair; he was so unconventionally frank and sincere, brimming over with humour, and he regarded every man as his friend until he had proved him otherwise—and even then he was disposed to think that the fault must lie somewhere in himself.
"I'm not surprised that your church was so full on Sunday," Errington told him, "now that I've met you. If the Church of England clergy, as a whole, were as human as you are, you would have fewer offshoots from your Established Church. I always think"—reminiscently—"that that is where the strength of the Roman Catholic padre lies—in his intense humanness."
The Sector looked up in surprise.
"Then you're not a member of our Church?" he asked.
For a moment Errington looked embarrassed, as though he had said more than he wished to.
"Oh, I was merely comparing the two," he replied evasively. "I have lived abroad a good bit, you know."
"Ah! That explains it, then," said Stair. "You've caught some little foreign turns of speech. Several times I've wondered if you were entirely English."