s hands at me and distorted
his features, and conveyed, on the whole, the kind of impression I have
just attempted to set down.)

Frank, then, seemed as much out of place in this perfectly correct and
suitable little room as an Indian prince in Buckingham Palace; or, if
you prefer it, an English nobleman (with spats) in Delhi. He was just
entirely different from it all; he had nothing whatever to do with it;
he was wholly out of place, not exactly as regarded his manner (for he
was quite at his ease), but with regard to his significance. He was as a
foreign symbol in a familiar language.

Its effect upon Mr. Parham-Carter was quite clear and strong. He
instanced to me the fact that he said nothing to Frank about his soul:
he honestly confessed that he scarcely even wished to press him to come
to Evensong on Sunday. Of course, he did not like Frank's being a Roman
Catholic; and his whole intellectual being informed him that it was
because Frank had never really known the Church of England that he had
left it. (Mr. Parham-Carter had himself learned the real nature of the
Church of England at the Pusey House at Oxford.) But there are certain
atmospheres in which the intellectual convictions are not very
important, and this was one of them. So here the two young men sat and
stared at one another, or, rather, Mr. Parham-Carter stared at Frank,
and Frank looked at nothing in particular.

"You haven't drunk your cocoa," said the clergyman suddenly.

Frank turned abruptly, took up the cup and drank the contents straight
off at one draught.

"And a cigarette?"

Frank took up a cigarette and put in his mouth.

"By the way," he said, taking it out again, "when'll you send your
ladies round? The morning's best, when the rest of us are out of the
way."

"All right."

"Well, I don't think there's anything else?"

"My dear chap," said the other, "I wish you'd tell me what it's all
about--why you're in this sort of life, you know. I don't want to pry,
but--"

Frank smiled suddenly and vividly.

"Oh, there's nothing to say. That's not the point. It's by my own choice
practically. I assure you I haven't disgraced anybody."

"But your people--"

"Oh! they're all right. There's nothing the matter with them.... Look
here! I really must be going."

He stood up, and something seemed to snap in the atmosphere as he did
so.

"Besides, I've got to be at work early--"

"I say, what did you do then?"

"Do then? What do yo