"Let's hear as little of the row as we can," he said, and the two went back to their chairs.
"Pardon me for the question," the Rev.Mr.Ware said, after a pause which began to affect him as constrained, "but something you said about dining--you don't live here, then?
In the house, I mean ?" The doctor laughed--a characteristically abrupt, dry little laugh, which struck Theron at once as bearing a sort of black-sheep relationship to the priest's habitual chuckle.

"That must have been puzzling you no end," he said--"that notion that the pastorate kept a devil's advocate on the premises.

No, Mr.Ware, I don't live here.

I inhabit a house of my own--you may have seen it--an old-fashioned place up beyond the race-course, with a sort of tower at the back, and a big garden.

But I dine here three or four times a week.