suited to his powers. The town, or the Cathedral part of it, was dominated
by one man, and that man a stupid, autocratic, retrogressive, good-natured
child. He bore that child not the slightest ill-will, but it must go or,
at any rate, its authority must be removed. He did, indeed, like Brandon,
and through most of this affair he did not cease to like him, but he,
Ronder, would never be comfortable so long as Brandon was there, he would
never be free to take the steps that seemed to him good, he would be
interfered with and patronised. He was greatly amused by Brandon's
patronage, but it really was not a thing that could be allowed to remain.

If he saw, as he made his plans, that the man's heart and soul, his life,
physical and spiritual, were involved--well he was sorry. It simply proved
how foolish it was to allow your heart and soul to be concerned in
anything.

He very quickly perceived that the first thing to be done was to establish
relations with the men who composed the Chapter. He watched, he listened,
he observed, then, at the end of some months, he began to move.

Many men would have considered him lazy. He never took exercise if he
could avoid it, and it was Polchester's only fault that it had so many
hills. He always had breakfast in bed, read the papers there and smoked a
cigarette. Every morning he had a bath as hot as he could bear it--and he
could bear it very hot indeed. Much of his best thinking was done there.

When he came downstairs he reserved the first hour for his own reading,
reading, that is, that had nothing to do with any kind of work, that was
purely for his own pleasure. He allowed nothing whatever to interfere with
this--Gautier and Flaubert, La Bruyere and Montaigne were his favourite
authors, but he read a great deal of English, Italian, and Spanish, and