"I don't know about those matters."
"No; I don't either. It's easy, cheap, and popular to knock the clergy.... Still, somehow or other, I can't seem to forget that the disciples were poor—and it bothers me a lot, Quarren."
Quarren said: "Haven't you and I enough to worry us concerning our own morals?"
Dankmere, who had been closing up and piling together the Undertaker's camp-chairs, looked around at the younger man.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I said that probably you and I would find no time left to criticise either De Groot or the clergy, if we used our leisure in self-examination."
His lordship went on piling up chairs. When he finished he started wandering around, hands in his pockets. Then he turned out all the electric lamps, drew the bay-window curtains wide so that the silvery radiance from the arc-light opposite made the darkness dimly lustrous.
A little breeze stirred the hair on Quarren's forehead; Dankmere dropped into the depths of an armchair near him. For a while they sat together in darkness and silence, then the Englishman said abruptly:
"You've been very kind to me."
Quarren glanced up surprised.