Gallery eBooks

..Why, man, we're sick of you, all of us
from the top man in the place to the smallest boy. And the Cathedral is
sick of you and your damned conceit, and is going to get rid of you, too,
if you won't go of yourself. And this is the first step. Your son's gone
with a whore to London, and all the town's laughing at you."
Brandon did not flinch. The man was close to him; he could smell his
drunken breath--but behind his words, drunken though they might be, was a
hatred so intense, so deep, so real, that it was like a fierce physical
blow. Hatred of himself. He had never conceived in all his life that any
one hated him--and this man had hated him for years, a man to whom he had
never spoken before to-day.
Davray, as was often his manner, seemed suddenly to sober. He stood aside
and spoke more quietly, almost without passion.
"I've been waiting for this moment for years," he said; "you don't know
how I've watched you Sunday after Sunday strutting about this lovely
place, happy in your own conceit. Your very pride has been an insult to
the God you pretend to serve.


Pages:
374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398