"In the pulpit?"

"And out of it--especially out of it?"

"He may have been. But--perhaps he has lost in power. Dispersion, you
know, does not make for strength."

Suddenly the curate became very pale.

"Dispersion--you say!" he almost stammered.

As if to cover some emotion, he looked at Malling's plate, and added:

"Have some more? You won't? Then--"

He got up and rang the bell. Ellen reappeared, cleared away, and put the
stewed fruit and custard on the table.

"Bring the coffee in ten minutes, Ellen. I won't ring."

"Very well, sir."

"Dispersion," said Chichester to Malling in a firmer voice, as Ellen
disappeared.

"Concentration makes for strength. Mr. Harding seems to me mentally--what
shall I say?--rather torn in pieces, as if preyed upon by some anxiety.
Now, if you'll allow me to be personal, I should say that you have
greatly gained in strength and power since I knew you two years ago."