es of the city.
Unfortunately Mr. Phirrips also caught sight of George. "Bishop, here is
Mr. Cannon, our architect. He will be able to explain perhaps better--"
And in an instant Mr. Phirrips had executed one of those feats of
prestidigitation for which he was renowned in contracting circles, left
George with the bishop, and gone off with his highly prized quarry, the
sporting peer. George, despite much worldliness, had never before had
speech with a bishop. However, the bishop played his part in a
soothingly conventional way, manipulated his apron and his calves with
senile dignity, stood still and gazed ardently at ceilings and vistas,
and said at intervals, explosively and hoarsely: "Ha! Very, interesting!
Very interesting! Very fine! Very fine! Noble!" He also put intelligent
questions to the youthful architect, such as: "How many bricks have been
used in this building?" He was very leisurely, as though the whole of
eternity was his.

"I'm afraid we may be late for the luncheon," George ventured.

The bishop looked at him blandly, leaning forward, and replied, after
holding his mouth open for a moment:

"They will not begin without us. I say grace." His antique eye twinkled.

After this George liked him, and understood that he was really a bishop.

In the immense hubbub of the lower hall the bishop was seized upon by
officials, and conducted to a chair a few places to the right of His
Worship the Mayor. Though there was considerable disorder and confusion
(doubtless owing to the absence of Alderman Soulter, who had held all
the strings in his hand) everybody agreed that the luncheon scene in the
lower hall was magnificent. The Mayor, in his high chair and in his
heavy chain and glittering robe, ruled in the centre of the principal
table, from which lesser tables ran at right angles. The Aldermen and
Councillors, also chained and robed, well sustained the brilliance of
the Mayor, and the ceremonial officials of the city surpassed both Mayor
and Council in grandeur. Sundry peers and M.P.'s and illustrious
capitalists enhanced the array of renown, and the bishop was rivalled by
priestly dignitaries scarcely less grandiose than himself. And then
there were the women. The women had been let in. During ten years of
familiarity with the city's life George had hardly spoken to a woman,
except Mr. Soulter's Scotch half-sister. The men lived a life of their
own, which often extended to the evenings, and very many of them