"I deny that we are religious, as a whole," said Boreham, stoutly. "You may not be, my dear fellow," said Bingham, in his oily voice; "but then you are the only genuine conservative I meet nowadays. You are still faithful to the 'Eighties'--still impressed by the discovery that religion don't drop out of the sky as we thought it did, but had its origin in the funk and cunning of the humanoid ape." May was standing between the two men, and all three had their backs to the cathedral, just as if they had emerged from its doors. And it was at this moment that she caught a sudden sight through the open archway of two figures passing along the terrace outside; one figure she did not know, but which she thought might be the Dean of Christ Church, and the other figure was one which was becoming to her more significant than any other in the world. He saw her; he raised his hat, and was already gone before she had time to think. When she did think it came upon her, with a rush of remorse, that he must have thought that she had been looking over the cathedral with her two companions, after having refused his guidance on the pretext that she wished to be alone. Yes, there was in his face surely surprise, surprise and reproach! How could she explain? He had gone! She vaguely heard the two men beside her speaking; she heard Boreham's protesting voice but did not follow his words. "While we are engaged in peaceful persuasion," said Bingham in her ear, "you are white with fatigue." "I'm not tired," she said, "not really--only I think I will go to the rooms where Lady Dashwood is to meet me. Will you show me them?" She spoke to Bingham, and touched his arm with her hand as if to ask for his support. Boreham saw that he was excluded. It was obvious, and he stood staring after them, full of indignation. "I shall see you later," he said in a dry voice. How did it all happen? As soon as they were on the terrace, May released Bingham's arm. "You want to get a rest before you go to the Hardings," he said. Then he added, in a voice that threw out the words merely as a remark which demanded no answer, "Was it physical--or--moral or both? Umph!" he went on. "Now, we have only a step to make. It's the third doorway!" CHAPTER XVII A TEA PARTY Mrs. Harding had not succeeded in finding some chance of "casually" asking Mrs. Potten to have tea with her, but she had secured the Dashwoods. That was something. Mrs. Harding's drawing-room was spacious and looked out on the turreted walls of Christ Church. The house witnessed to Mrs. Harding's private means. "We have got Lady Dashwood in the further room," she murmured to some ladies who arrived punctually from the Sale in St. Aldates, "and we nearly got the Warden of Kings." The naïveté of Mrs. Harding's remark was quite unconscious, and was due to that absence of humour which is the very foundation stone of snobbishness. "But the Warden is coming to fetch his party home," added Mrs. Harding, cheerfully.