"Very well, thank you, sir. Very glad to see you." Gardiner's manner was an odd blend of orthodox respect and unorthodox friendliness. It had its counterpart in Roche's own: he could not quite shake off the condescension of the chaplain, yet he did not take possession of the prisoner's stool and leave him to stand. The consequence was that both kept their feet.
"To tell the truth, Gardiner, I've come to say good-by. I shan't have another chance; I'm off first thing to-morrow."
"Off on leave, sir?"
"Off for good. I'm leaving the prison. It's been in the air for some time, but it was only finally arranged last night. I've said nothing about it, because I didn't want a fuss; but I could not leave without seeing you."
"Thanks," said Gardiner, smiling. "You'll be missed. I'm glad my time's nearly up. Are you going to another prison, or is it an ordinary parish job?"
"Neither. I am joining up."
"Chaplain to the forces?"
"Better than that. I enlist." Gardiner's face, in the first moment of surprise, was more expressive than he could have wished. Roche, with his odd touch of the theatrical, laid a hand on his shoulder. "You envy me?" he asked, his voice thrilling and deepening. "Never mind, my poor fellow, your turn will come. Another month and you too will be free to do your bit with the best of us. In the service of your country there is no respect of persons—"
The hand was vigorously shaken off, and Gardiner stepped back. "I'll be shot if I'm going to let you patronize me! If you think that because you happen to be the Honorable and Reverend Dalrymple-Roche, and I'm B14—Why, I was round the world and back again before you were out of your schoolroom!" He burst out laughing.
"Gardiner—"