“If you please,” the curate answered simply. “May I come in?”
For answer, Lindo silently held the door open, and Clode passed through the hall into the library. He was in the habit of entering this room a dozen times a week, but he never did so after leaving his own small lodgings without being struck by its handsome proportions, by the grave harmonious color of its calf-lined walls, and the air of studious quiet which always reigned within them. Of all the rector’s possessions he envied him this room the most. The very sight of the shaded lamp standing on the revolving bookcase at the corner of the hearth, and of the little table beside it, which still bore the rector’s coffee-cup and a tiny silver ewer and basin, aroused his spleen afresh. But he gave no outward sign of this. He stood with his hat in one hand, his other leaning on the table, and his head slightly bent. “Rector,” he said, “I am afraid I behaved very badly this afternoon.”
“I certainly thought your manner rather odd,” replied the rector shortly. But he was half disarmed already.
“I was annoyed, much annoyed, about a private matter,” the curate proceeded in an even, rather despondent tone. “It is a matter about which I expect I shall presently have to take your opinion. But for the present I am not at liberty to name it. However, I was in trouble, and I foolishly wreaked my annoyance upon the first person I came across.”
“That was, unfortunately, myself,” said Lindo, smiling.
“It would have been very unfortunate indeed for me, if you were as some rectors I could name,” the curate replied gravely, still with his eyes cast down. “As it is—well, I think you will accept my apology.”
“Say no more about it,” answered the rector hastily. There was nothing he hated so much as a scene. “Have a cup of coffee, my dear fellow. I will ring for a cup and saucer.” And, before the curate could protest, Lindo was at the bell and had rung it, his manner almost the manner of a boy.
“Sit down, sit down!” he continued. “Sarah, a cup and saucer, please.”
“But you were going out,” protested the curate, as he complied.
“Only to the post with some letters,” the rector explained. “I will send Sarah instead.”