"Mother of God!" and went out.
Chris went through with the strange priest, down the hall and out into the porch again.

The others were standing there, fearful and whispering, and opened out to let the two monks pass through.
Chris had been tired and hot when he arrived, but he was conscious now of no sensation but of an overmastering desire to see the place; he passed straight by his horse that still stood with a servant at his head, and turned up instinctively toward the river.
The monk called after him.
"There, there," he cried, "not so fast--we have plenty of time." They took a wherry at the stairs and pushed out with the stream.

The waterman was a merry-looking man who spoke no word but whistled to himself cheerfully as he laid himself to the oars, and the boat began to move slantingly across the flowing tide.

He looked at the monks now and again; but Chris was seated, staring out with eyes that saw nothing down the broad stream away to where the cathedral rose gigantic and graceful on the other side.

It was the first time he had been in London since a couple of years before his profession, but the splendour and strength of the city was nothing to him now.