In the glow of sunset the thin iron modern spire of the cathedral had a grace not its own, and the roofs below it showed strong and almost sentient.
One could imagine that the distant cathedral brooding over the city heard, saw, and spoke, if in another language than the language of men.
"If that were all, Langton," said Peter suddenly, "I'd shoot myself." "You're a queer fellow, Graham," said Langton.

"I almost think you might.
I'd like to know what becomes of you, anyway.

Forgive me--I don't mean to be rude--but you may make a parson yet.

But don't found a new religion for Heaven's sake, and don't muddle up man-made laws and God-made instincts--if they are God-made," he added.
Peter said nothing, until they were waiting at the carriage-door for Jenks.

Then he said: "Then you think out here men have simply abandoned conventions, and because there is no authority or fear or faith left to them, they do as they please ?" Langton settled himself in a corner.