the direct praise of God; here were living souls eager and alert on the
business of their existence, building up with vibration after vibration
the eternal temple of glory in which God dwelt. Once he began to sing,
and then stopped. He would be silent here until his voice had been
authorized to join in that consecrated offering.

He waited until all was over, and the two lines of black figures had
passed out southwards, and the sacristan was going round putting out
the lights; and then he too rose and went out, thrilled and excited,
into the gathering twilight, as the bell for supper began to sound out
from the refectory tower.

He found Mr. Morris waiting for him at the entrance to the guest-house,
and the two went up the stairs at the porter's directions into the
parlour that looked out over the irregular court towards the church and
convent.

Christopher sat down in the window seat.

Over the roofs opposite the sky was still tender and luminous, with rosy
light from the west, and a little troop of pigeons were wheeling over
the church in their last flight before returning home to their huge
dwelling down by the stream. The porter had gone a few minutes before,
and Christopher presently saw him returning with Dom Anthony Marks, the
guest-master, whom he had got to know very well on former visits. In a
fit of shyness he drew back from the window, and stood up, nervous and
trembling, and a moment later heard steps on the stairs. Mr. Morris had
slipped out, and now stood in the passage, and Chris saw him bowing with
a nicely calculated mixture of humility and independence. Then a black
figure appeared in the doorway, and came briskly through.