The vicar said, at bedtime, “I want to speak to you, Oliver, if you can spare a minute or two,” and they went into his study. Eddy felt rather like a schoolboy awaiting a jawing. He watched the vicar’s square, sensible, kind face, through a cloud of smoke, and saw his point of view precisely. He wanted certain work done. He didn’t think the work was so well done if a hundred other things were done also. He believed in certain things. He didn’t think belief in those things could be quite thorough if those who held it had constant and unnecessary traffic with those who quite definitely didn’t. Well, it was of course a point of view; Eddy realised that. The vicar said, “I don’t want to be interfering, Oliver. But, frankly, are you as keen on this job as you were two months ago?” “Yes, rather,” said Eddy. “Keener, I think. One gets into it, you see.” The vicar nodded, patient and a little cynical. “Quite. Well, it’s a full man’s job, you know; one can’t take it easy. One’s got to put every bit of oneself into it, and even so there isn’t near enough of most of us to get upsides with it.... Oh, I don’t mean don’t take on times, or don’t have outside interests and plenty of friends; of course I don’t. But one’s got not to fritter and squander one’s energies. And one’s got to have one’s whole heart in the work, or it doesn’t get done as it should. It’s a job for the keen; for the enthusiasts; for the single-minded. Do you think, Oliver, that it’s quite the job for you?” “Yes,” said Eddy, readily, though crest-fallen. “I’m keen. I’m an enthusiast. I’m----” He couldn’t say single-minded, so he broke off. “Really,” he added, “I’m awfully sorry if I’ve scamped the work lately, and been out of the parish too much. I’ve tried not to, honestly--I mean I’ve tried to fit it all in and not scamp things.” “Fit it all in!” The vicar took him up. “Precisely. There you are. Why do you try to fit in so much more than you’ve properly room for? Life’s limited, you see. One’s got to select one thing or another.” “Oh,” Eddy murmured, “what an awful thought! I want to select lots and lots of things!” “It’s greedy,” said the vicar. “What’s more, it’s silly. You’ll end by getting nothing.... And now there’s another thing. Of course you choose your own friends; it’s no business of mine. But you bring them a good deal into the parish, and that’s my business, of course. Now, I don’t want to say anything against friends of yours; still less to repeat the comments of ignorant and prejudiced people; but I expect you know the sort of things such people would say about Mr. Datcherd and Mrs. Le Moine. After all, they’re both married to someone else. You’ll admit that they are very reckless of public opinion, and that that’s a pity.” He spoke cautiously, saying less than he felt, in order not to be annoying. But Eddy flushed, and for the first time looked cross. “Surely, if people are low-minded enough----” he began.