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"Don't think too much about the place...I'm glad that we met. Good afternoon." Davray did not seem to have noticed him; he was staring down again at the Bishop's Tomb. Ronder walked away. A strange man! A strange day! How different people were! Neither better nor worse, but just different. As many varieties as there were particles of sand on the seashore. How impossible to be bored with life.
The man's face, worn now and pinched and sharp, must once have had its fineness. "You do yourself an injustice, Mr. Davray," Ronder said. "I'm very glad indeed to know you." "Well, of course, you parsons have got to know everybody, haven't you? And the sinners especially. That's your job. But I'm not a sinner to-day.
The pain invaded him like an active personal enemy. Down the road it seemed to him figures were moving Hogg, Davray that other world the dust rose in little clouds. What had he been doing? His head! Where did this pain come from? He felt old and sick and weak. He wanted to be at home. Slowly he began to climb the hill. An enemy, silent and triumphant, seemed to step behind him. Jubilee
He looked up and saw, through the fire, the face of Davray the painter. He turned to go, and at once Davray was at his side. "No. Don't go. You're in my country now, Archdeacon, not your own. You're not cock of this walk, you know. Last time we met you thought you owned the place. Well, you can't think you own this. Fight it out, Mr. Archdeacon, fight it out."
Brandon, to bother with such as I." He said 'nothing and she walked away. Very shortly after, Davray got up from his seat and came over to Falk's corner. It was obvious that he had been drinking rather heavily. He was a little unsteady on his feet. "You're young Brandon, aren't you?" he asked.
He was inclined to be interested in the man, in any one who had a wider, broader view of life than the citizens of the town. Davray had not been drinking for several weeks; and always towards the end of one of his sober bouts he was gentle, melancholy, the true artist in him rising for one last view of the beauty that there was in the world before the inevitable submerging.
What would the Queen herself think, did she know? The two ladies and Davray passed through the door at the same time. And now every one was inside. The great bell dropped notes like heavy weights into a liquid well.
"I sometimes think that when I'm properly drunk one day I'll murder that man. His self-sufficiency and conceit are an insult to the Cathedral. But the Cathedral knows. It bides its time." Ronder looked gravely at the melancholy, ineffective figure with the pale pointed beard, and the weak hands. "You speak very confidently, Mr. Davray," he said. "As with all of us, you judge others by yourself.
They all have who've tried his game. Owned it!" "Look here," said Falk, "don't you say anything about my father that's none of your business. He's all right. I don't know what the devil I came up here for thinking of other things." Davray too was thinking of other things. "You wonderful place!" he whispered. "You beautiful place! You've ruined me, but I don't care.
Brandon answered: "I have no quarrel with you, Mr. Davray. Nor have I anything to say to you." "No quarrel? I like that. I'd knock your face in for two-pence, you blasted hypocrite. And I will too. All free ground here." Davray's voice was shrill. He was swaying on his legs. The woman looked up from the fire and watched them.
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