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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Cathedral"

Very bad. Must keep quiet. Never get excited. Then for a moment
his thoughts did range, roaming over that now so familiar ground of
bewilderment. Why? Why? Why?
Why a year ago _that_, and now _this_? When he had done no one
in the world any harm and had served God so faithfully? Why? Why? Why?
Back, back to Pybus. This wasn't work. He had much to do and no time to
lose. That enemy of his was working, you could be sure of that. Only a
week! Only a week!
Was that some one moving in the room? Was there some one stealing behind
him, as they had done once, as...? He turned sharply round, rising in his
chair. No one there. He got up and began stealthily to pace the floor. The
worst of it was that however carefully you went you could never be quite
sure that some one was not just behind you, some one very clever,
measuring his steps by yours. You could never be sure. How still the house
was! He stopped by his door, after a moment's hesitation opened it and
looked out. No one there, only the gas whispering.
What was he doing, staring into the hall? He should be working, making
sure of his work.


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