The boy thought the world of Ronder, it was said,
and had been to see him and ask his advice. Ronder knew that Brandon had
heard this story and was publicly declaring that Ronder had ruined his
son.
Finally the two men were brought into sharp rivalry over the Pybus living.
Over that, too, the town, or at any rate the Cathedral section of it, was
in two camps. Here, too, Brandon's vociferous publicity had made privacy
impossible.
Ronder was ashamed, as though his rotund body had been suddenly exposed in
all its obese nakedness before the assembled citizens of Polchester. In
this public quarrel he was not in his element; forces were rising in him
that he distrusted and feared.
People were laughing...for that he would never forgive Brandon so long
as he lived.
On this particular afternoon he was about to close the window and try to
work at his sermon when some one knocked at his door.
"Come in," he said impatiently. The maid appeared.
"Please, sir, there's some one would like to speak to you."
"Who is it?"
"She gave her name as Miss Milton, sir.
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