This explanation, far from convincing, evidently annoyed, Aunt Margaret, though she only said, “I would rather you didn’t talk like that before the children. They have been brought up to look upon religion with respect.” I did not reply. “I think I’ll go for a walk too,” George announced, with a wink at me. “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” cried Aunt Margaret, flaring up into a shrill rage. “You see what comes of such talk! I’ll have no Sabbath-breaking in this house.” “Ssh――ssh,” Uncle George mildly intervened. “To force people to do things against their will isn’t the proper way to take.” “You want your children to give up going to church, then?” “Nobody is giving up going to church. George is coming of course. Young people very often say things without meaning them. If Peter is for taking a walk this morning, I expect he will come out with us this evening to hear Dr. Russell, won’t you, Peter?” But, altogether apart from Dr. Russell, that Sunday was a dreary day. In the afternoon I accompanied George, and we loafed about in the Ormeau Park, where he was evidently accustomed to meet his friends. These friends of George’s were all in business, and all looked upon themselves as young men. They smoked cheap cigarettes, wore their handkerchiefs in their sleeves, and were tremendously knowing and rakish, while the larger part of their conversation appeared to be concerned with the merits of professional football players. I could get on all right with George when he was by himself, but his friends, among whom he was remarkably popular, did not improve him. It took no great perspicacity to discover that they on their side regarded my company as a very questionable acquisition. This feeling, far from diminishing, obviously increased as the afternoon advanced. George described our adventure of the night before with immense gusto, and gave a burlesque imitation of the knock-out. To have an appreciative audience was his greatest delight, and the others, for that matter, left him a fairly free stage. Now that he had them he ignored me utterly, so that, in the end, I was left practically alone. I fulfilled a sort of highly disagreeable rôle of silent hanger-on. I did it most reluctantly, yet I could not summon up sufficient moral courage to go away. CHAPTER XX