The Fair
As Brandon left the Cathedral Ronder came up to him. Brandon, with bowed
head, had turned into the Cloisters, although that was not the quickest
way to his home. The two men were alone in the greyness lit from without
by the brilliant sun as though it had been a stage setting.
"I beg your pardon, Archdeacon, I must speak to you."
Brandon raised his head. He stared at Ronder, then said:
"I have nothing to say to you. I do not wish to speak to you."
"I know that you do not." Ronder's face was really troubled; there was an
expression in his eyes that his aunt had never seen.
Brandon moved on, looking neither to right nor left.
Ronder continued: "I know how you feel about me. But to-day--somehow--this
service--I feel that I can't allow our quarrel to continue without
speaking. It isn't easy for me----" He broke off.
Brandon's voice shook.
"I have nothing to say to you. I do not wish to say anything to you. You
have been my enemy since you first came to this town. My work--my
family----"
"I am not your enemy. Indeed, indeed I am not.
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