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           Whenhecameintoaroomcladinhisfullpurpleregaliafromthatchtotoe,heresembledaTurnersunset,andattractedbothadmirationandattention.Hehadwrittentwonovels:oneofthemviolentlyanti-Catholic,justbeforehisconversion,andfiveyearslateranother,inwhichhehadattemptedtoturnallhiscleverjibesagainstCatholicsintoevenclevererinnuendoesagainstEpiscopalians.Hewasintenselyritualistic,startlinglydramatic,lovedtheideaofGodenoughtobeacelibate,andratherlikedhisneighbor.

           Childrenadoredhimbecausehewaslikeachild;youthrevelledinhiscompanybecausehewasstillayouth,andcouldn’tbeshocked.IntheproperlandandcenturyhemighthavebeenaRichelieu—atpresenthewasaverymoral,veryreligious(ifnotparticularlypious)clergyman,makingagreatmysteryaboutpullingrustywires,andappreciatinglifetothefullest,ifnotentirelyenjoyingit.

           HeandAmorytooktoeachotheratfirstsight—thejovial,impressiveprelatewhocoulddazzleanembassyball,andthegreen-eyed,intentyouth,inhisfirstlongtrousers,acceptedintheirownmindsarelationoffatherandsonwithinahalf-hour’sconversation.

           "Mydearboy,I’vebeenwaitingtoseeyouforyears.Takeabigchairandwe’llhaveachat."

           "I’vejustcomefromschool—St.Regis’s,youknow."

           "Soyourmothersays—aremarkablewoman;haveacigarette—I’msureyousmoke.Well,ifyou’relikeme,youloatheallscienceandmathematics—"

           Amorynoddedvehemently.

           "Hate’emall.LikeEnglishandhistory."