"He doesn't strike you as a man of power?"
"In the pulpit?"
"And out of it—especially out of it?"
"He may have been. But—perhaps he has lost in power. Dispersion, you know, does not make for strength."
Suddenly the curate became very pale.
"Dispersion—you say!" he almost stammered.
As if to cover some emotion, he looked at Malling's plate, and added:
"Have some more? You won't? Then—"
He got up and rang the bell. Ellen reappeared, cleared away, and put the stewed fruit and custard on the table.
"Bring the coffee in ten minutes, Ellen. I won't ring."