"I don't think he got on with the rector."
The drip of the rain became audible outside, and a faint sound of footsteps on the pavement.
"Possibly I shall not stay much longer," he added.
"No doubt you'll take a living."
"I don't know. I don't know. But, in any case, I may not stay much longer—perhaps. That will do, Ellen; you may go and fetch the mutton. Put the claret on the table, please."
When the maid was gone, he added:
"One doesn't want a servant in the room listening to all one says. As she was standing behind me I had forgotten she was here. How it rains to-night! I hate the sound of rain."
"It is dismal," said Malling, thinking of his depression while he had walked to Hornton Street.
"Do you mind," said the curate, slightly lowering his voice, "if I speak rather—rather confidentially to you?"
"Not at all, if you wish to—"