Manning entered easily, nodded to Tressor, apologised for being late, and greeted Paul. "Hullo, Paul," he said, "had a good Vac.?"
"We were just talking of his manifold activities," said Tressor, "but I expect luncheon is ready. Let's go in."
Paul felt a little out of it during the meal. The others talked so easily of places, people and things which were foreign to him. Personalities were mentioned of whom you never heard at Claxted. He felt an absurd desire to retaliate in kind and tell of a restaurant lunch with Gipsy Smith after a big meeting in Westminster Chapel and of veteran Mr. Henry Hutchinson's visit to his father. But quite possibly neither Tressor nor Manning had ever heard of the World's Conference of Christian Endeavour or of the Children's Special Service Mission. Also, though he knew what to do at table of course, he was rather on his guard. He was self-conscious when he had to help himself from the dishes with which the man served him. At home, helpings were handed to you.
They went back to the study for coffee, and it was then that Manning remarked disconnectedly to the don: "I hear Father Vassall is coming into residence at the Catholic Church this term."
"Yes. He's a great preacher in his way. Have you heard him?"
"No, but I shall go. Catholicism interests me. There's so much more to be said for it than for any other form of religion it seems to me,—and just as much to be said against it."
Tressor laughed, and looked across at Paul. "What do you say to that, Kestern?" he asked.
Paul glanced from one to the other, and flushed slightly. "There seems to me nothing in the world to be said for it," he said bravely.
"There you are, Manning," laughed Tressor kindly. "And I must say I agree with Kestern in the main."
Manning crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette. "Do you?" he said, in his cool, attentive, but cynical way. "I suppose you would. But I shall divide my foes, after the Apostolic manner. You do not believe in dogma; Paul does."