Chichester looked at Malling for quite a minute without replying. Then he got up, and said, with a changed voice and manner: "If the rector doesn't come to see me I shall have to go. Sunday is not a holiday, you know, for us clergymen." He drew out his watch and looked at it. "I shall have to go. I'm taking the Children's Service." Malling got up too. "Is it getting late?" he said. "Perhaps--" At this moment the door was gently opened and Mr. Harding appeared. "Oh, Chichester," he said. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. What is it? Would you like to come to my study?" "I must be off," said Malling. "May I say good-by to Lady Sophia? Or perhaps she is resting and would rather not be disturbed." "I'm sure she would wish to say good-by to you," said the rector. "I'll just ask her." He shot a quick glance from one man to the other and went out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. Directly he was gone the curate said: "It has been such a pleasure to me to renew my acquaintance with you, Mr. Malling. Are you going to be long in London?" "All the season, I think." "Then I hope we may meet again soon, very soon." He hesitated, put one hand in his pocket, and brought out a card-case. "I should like to give you my address." "And let me give you mine." They exchanged cards. "I expect you'll be very busy," said the curate, rather doubtfully. Then he added, like a man urged on by some strong, almost overpowering desire to do a thing not quite natural to him: "But I wish you could spare an evening to come to dine with me. I live very modestly, of course. I'm in rooms, in Hornton Street--do you know it?--near Campden Hill?--Number 4a--as you'll see on my card. I wonder--" "I shall be delighted to come." "When?" "Whenever you are kind enough to ask me." "Could you come on Wednesday week? It's so unfortunate, I have such a quantity of parish engagements--that is my first evening free." "Wednesday week, with pleasure." "At half after seven?" "That will suit me perfectly." "And"--he looked toward the door--"I shall be greatly obliged to you if you won't mention to the rector the fact that you are coming. He--" "My wife's in the boudoir," said Mr. Harding, coming into the room at this moment. He stood by the door. Malling shook hands with Chichester, and went to say good-by to his hostess. Mr. Harding shut the drawing-room door. "This is the way," he said. "Well, Mr. Malling? Well?" "You mean you want to know--?" "Your impression of Chichester." The rector stopped on the landing. "Do you find him much changed?" Malling shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly--a little. He may have become rather firmer in manner, a trifle more decisive." "Firmer! More decisive, you say!" "But surely that is only natural, working--as he has done, I understand, under a man such as yourself for two years." "Such as myself! Then you think he's caught something of my manner and way of looking at things? You think--"