“Your maid seems to be in a shocking state of health,” he said.
“She suffers from indigestion,” replied Mrs. Rust. “Some fool of a doctor has told her that she has cancer. She has quite lost her head over it.”
“At any rate she appears to be in great pain,” said the priest, who considered that indigestion was rather too unclothed a word for ordinary use. “And pain is a terrible thing, is it not?”
“No,” said Mrs. Rust.
“You mean that you consider it salubrious for the soul?”
“No,” said Mrs. Rust.
“Then I wonder in what way you consider pain desirable?”
Mrs. Rust, who had meant nothing beyond contradiction, shut her eyes and looked immovably subtle. The priest changed the subject. He had a real gift for changing the subject.
“Have you made the acquaintance of that dark young man who acts as the ship’s gardener?” he asked.
“An excellent young man,” said Mrs. Rust, immediately divining that the priest did not approve of him.