“Yes.”
“And has it made a difference to the nose?”
“I think it’s made a considerable difference. But I want your opinion.”
“I’ll give it you for what it’s worth. But who’s going to see Mr. Thrush?”
“The Dean.
“The Dean! Why on earth?”
“Almost directly there’s going to be a vacancy among the vergers, and the Dean has promised me faithfully that if Mr. Thrush seems suitable he shall have the post.”
“Mr. Thrush a verger! Mr. Thrush carry a poker before a bishop!”
“Not a poker, only a white wand. I’ve been making him practise here in the garden, and he does it quite admirably already.”
She spoke now with almost defiant emphasis. Dion loved her for the defiance and for its deliciously absurd reason.