Bring your chair nearer. We're
all alone here now, you and I. We must make a lot of one another."
He had paid so little attention to her hitherto that she suddenly realised
now that her loneliness had, during these last weeks, been the hardest
thing of all to bear. She drew her chair close to his and he took her
hand.
"Yes, yes, it's quite true. I don't know what I should have done without
you during these last weeks. You've been very good to your poor, stupid,
old father!"
She murmured something, and he burst out, "Oh, yes, they do! That's what
they say! I know how they talk. They want to get me out of the way and
change the place--put in unbelievers and atheists. But they shan't--not
while I have any breath in my body--" He went on more gently, "Why just
think, my dear, they actually want to have that man Wistons here. An
atheist! A denier of Christ's divinity! Here worshipping in the Cathedral!
And when I try to stop it they say I'm mad. Oh, yes! They do! I've heard
them. Mad. Out-of-date. They've laughed at me--ever since--ever since...
that elephant, you know, dear.
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