There is something in
a great river that reminds us--"

He caught his curate's eye and was silent.

"Are you walking my way?" asked Malling. "I am going by the Abbey and
Victoria Street to Cadogan Square."

"Then we will accompany you as far as Victoria Station," said the rector.

"You don't think it would be wiser to take a hansom?" began Chichester.
"You remember--"

"No, no, certainly not. Walking always does me good," rejoined Mr.
Harding, almost in a tone of rebuke.

The curate said nothing more, and the three men set out toward Parliament
Square, Malling walking between the two clergymen.

He felt embarrassed, and this surprised him, for he was an extremely
self-reliant man and entirely free from shyness. At first he thought that
possibly his odd discomfort arose from the fact that he was in company
with two men who, perhaps, had quite recently had a difference which they
were endeavoring out of courtesy to conceal from him. Perhaps there had
been a slight quarrel over some parish matter. Certainly when he first
spoke with them there had been something uneasy, a suspicion of strain,
in the manner of both. But then he remembered how, before Chichester had
turned round, they had been leaning amicably above the river.

No, it could not be that. He sought mentally for some other reason. But
while he did so he talked, and endeavored to rid himself promptly of the
unwelcome feeling that beset him.

In this effort, however, he did not at first succeed. The "conditions"
were evidently unsatisfactory. He wondered whether if he were not walking
between the two men he would feel more comfortable, and presently, at a
crossing, he managed to change his place. He was now next to Mr. Harding,
who had the curate on his other side, and at once he felt more at his
ease. The rector of St. Joseph's led the conversation, in which Malling
joined, and at first the curate was silent. But presently Malling noticed
a thing that struck him as odd. Chichester began to "chip in" now and
then, and whenever he did so it was either to modify what Mr. Harding
had just said, or to check him in what he was saying, or abruptly to
introduce a new topic of talk. Sometimes Mr. Harding did not appear to
notice these interruptions; at other times he obviously resented them;
at others again he yielded with an air of anxiety, almost of fear, to
his curate's attenuations or hastened to follow his somewhat surprising
leads down new conversational p