"You and I might go for a long walk through the mountains," Henry answered. "We could walk to Glendalough and back again. It would just fill up the Easter holidays. Let's start to-morrow morning. I'm staying at the Club. You can meet me there!"
"No, I'm sorry, Henry, I can't go with you!..."
"Why not? You said you'd nothing particular to do!"
"I'm going to Mass in the morning...."
"Well, that doesn't matter. We can start after you've been. Come along, John. You look washed-out, and the tramp'll do you good!..."
Marsh shook his head. "I can't go, Henry," he said. "It isn't only to-morrow morning that I want to go to Mass ... I want to go the day after ... and I want to go with all ... all my people on Easter Sunday!"
"You've grown very religious, John. Do you go to Mass every morning?"
"I've been every morning now for a month. You see, one doesn't know ... well, perhaps I am growing more religious. I won't keep you now. Perhaps I shall see you again!..."
"Why, of course, you'll see me again. Heaven and earth, man, anybody'd think you were going to die, the way you talk!"
Marsh did not speak. He smiled when Henry spoke of dying, and then looked away. They were still standing on the bridge, and he leant on the parapet and looked down on the lake.