Because there was a great deal of pressing business he pushed aside Falk's problem. It was there, it was waiting for him, but perhaps time would solve it. He concentrated himself with a new energy, a new self-confidence, upon the Cathedral, the Jubilee, the public life of the town. Nevertheless, that horrible day had had its effect upon him. Three days after Falk's escape he was having breakfast alone with Joan. "Mother has a headache," Joan said. "She's not coming down." He nodded, scarcely looking up from his paper. In a little while she said: "What are you doing to-day, daddy? I'm very sorry to bother you, but I'm housekeeping to-day, and I have to arrange about meals----" "I'm lunching at Carpledon," he said, putting his paper down. "With the Bishop? How nice! I wish I were. He's an old dear." "He wants to consult me about some of the Jubilee services," Brandon said in his public voice. "Won't Canon Ryle mind that?" "I don't care if he does. It's his own fault, for not managing things better." "I think the Bishop must be very lonely out there. He hardly ever comes into Polchester now. It's because of his rheumatism, I suppose. Why doesn't he resign, daddy?" "He's wanted to, a number of times. But he's very popular. People don't want him to go." "I don't wonder." Joan's eyes sparkled. "Even if one never saw him at all it would be better than somebody else. He's _such_ an old darling." "Well, I don't believe myself in men going on when they're past their work. However, I hear he's going to insist on resigning at the end of this year." "How old is he, daddy?" "Eighty-seven." There was always a tinge of patronage in the Archdeacon's voice when he spoke of his Bishop. He knew that he was a saint, a man whose life had been of so absolute a purity, a simplicity, an unfaltering faith and courage, that there were no flaws to be found in him anywhere. It was possibly this very simplicity that stirred Brandon's patronage. After all, we were living in a workaday world, and the Bishop's confidence in every man's word and trust in every man's honour had been at times a little ludicrous. Nevertheless, did any one dare to attack the Bishop, he was immediately his most ardent and ferocious defender. It was only when the Bishop was praised that he felt that a word or two of caution was necessary.