He laid his hand affectionately on his companion's shoulder. "Now
here," he continued, "is the southern boundary of the quadrangle."

Having outlined the architectural possibilities of the future, he
pointed with his stick to the large bronze statue of the founder that
stood on the eastern verge of the plateau, opposite the tower.

"There is only one defect," he remarked, "in that otherwise fine work
of art. You observe that the bishop's hand is extended in blessing
toward the college, with the palm downward. Did you ever know a bishop
to hold out his hand in such a position?"

His air was that of a man who has turned from business to friendly and
familiar discourse with a sense of relief. They visited in turn two
red brick buildings placed at some distance beyond and below the sacred
square, devoted to scientific and athletic pursuits. Leigh wondered
whether their position symbolised their relative unimportance to the
magnificent hall upon the hill, and indicated a grudging concession to
the dominant scientific spirit of the times.

The bishop viewed the chemical apparatus with frank condescension.
"This is Blake's laboratory," he explained. "He amuses himself here
with experiments in odours. If people will give money for such
purposes, I suppose we must take it."

As they climbed slowly back to the plateau, he went lightly from one
subject to another. His gospel of affability had finally crystallized,
until it seemed to be contained in the formula of the small anecdote
whose point, as often as not, turned upon the foibles of men of his own