The man was nervous. Brandon liked that.
"Yes?" he said.
The rosy light was fading. Strange that little green cloud rising like
smoke from the tower....
"At the last Chapter we were on opposite sides. I want to say how greatly
I've regretted that. I feel that we don't know one another as we should. I
wonder if you would allow me..."
The light was fading--Ronder's spectacles shone, his body in shadow.
"...to see something more of you--to have a real talk with you?"
Brandon smiled grimly to himself in the dusk. This fool! He was afraid
then. He saw himself hatless in Bennett's shop; outside, the jeering
crowd.
"I'm afraid, Canon Ronder, that we shall never see eye to eye here about
many things. If you will allow me to say so, you have perhaps not been
here quite long enough to understand the real needs of this diocese. You
must go slowly here--more slowly than perhaps you are prepared for. We are
not Modernists here."
The spectacles, alone visible, answered: "Well, let us discuss it then.
Let us talk things over. Let me ask you at once, Have you something
against me, something that I have done unwittingly? I have fancied lately
a personal note.
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