"I think it most remarkable," said his lordship, when his fine but tired legs were beneath the mahogany once more, "that he should be able to drive these dreadful machines with such skill. He missed a great many things that he might have hit, but, as he said, he ’boosted’ one dog over a hedge in a most skilful way. He said ’boosted,’ a very peculiar word. I must write to Doctor Murray about it. But I do not think he has been brought up with care. He was not altogether respectful to me, Bradstock." "I much regret it," said Bradstock, "but what can you expect at Goring? On the whole, his manners are not so bad. Perhaps you annoyed him. He does not like being annoyed." "Indeed," said the bishop, "indeed! Well, I may have worried him in a way that I do not quite understand. But I have to own that for a boy to put his hand on my shoulder and say, ’Sit down, bishop,’ in a most authoritative way, made me a little cross. And when I refused to enter the motorcar again, I think he might have given me more time to reflect on the fact that I was a very long way from anywhere. He was very short and peremptory with me. It was most curious, and I regret I did not go on with him, for I am extremely anxious to put an end to this scandal. One never knows what will happen. The duel in the moonlight under the cathedral was most remarkable. I wonder when Bob will return." "So do I," said Bradstock, drily. "Why do you say so in that tone?" asked the bishop. "Because I doubt whether he will return at all if he finds Penelope," replied Bradstock. "Good heavens!" cried the bishop, "but he went for the very purpose of discovering her." "You don’t know Pen," said Bradstock, "and he worships her. If she doesn’t want to be discovered, she will keep him. I am certain of it." This showed that Bradstock, though a silent peer, was a very sensible one. The bishop frowned and smote the table. "I shall be extremely angry with Bob if you turn out to be right," he said, firmly. "I shall be extremely angry with him." "Much he will care about that," said Bradstock. "You ought to have gone on with him." "I believe I ought to have done so. Yes, you are right, Bradstock; it was an error of judgment. I was a coward. I was afraid to die. I did not like the idea of being ’boosted’ over a hedge. I am ashamed of myself." "Never mind," said Bradstock, consolingly, "I have seen heroes quail in a motor-car. I myself have quailed in one." The bishop shook his head. "Nevertheless, I blame myself. I ought not to have been afraid, even though I felt peculiar and unwonted sensations in my gaiters," he murmured. He smote the table again. "I will make amends, Bradstock. I will devote myself to the task of finding Penelope at any speed that is necessary. I cannot quite reconcile myself to the notion that I am a coward. I will find her if Bob deceives us." "You can’t," said Bradstock, rather gloomily.