I hope now it's to tell me that you'll buy the boat you've come.' They entered the house, and the priest opened the door of the little sitting-room.

Hyacinth knew it well.

There was the dark mahogany table with the marks burnt into it where hot dishes were set down, the shabby arm-chair, the worn cocoanut-matting on the floor, the dozen or so books in the hanging shelf, the tawdry sacred pictures round the wall.

He had known it all, and it all seemed unchanged since he was a child.
'Sit you down--sit you down,' said the priest.

'And now about the boat.' 'I'm not going in for her,' said Hyacinth.