“No doubt of it.  Why is it,” Mr. Parr continued reflectively, “that ministers as a whole are by no means the men they were?  You will pardon my frankness.  When I was a boy, the minister was looked up to as an intellectual and moral force to be reckoned with.  I have heard it assigned, as one reason, that in the last thirty years other careers have opened up, careers that have proved much more attractive to young men of ability.”

“Business careers?” inquired the rector.

“Precisely!”

“In other words,” said Hodder, with his curious smile, “the ministry gets the men who can’t succeed at anything else.”

“Well, that’s putting it rather strong,” answered Mr. Parr, actually reddening a little.  “But come now, most young men would rather be a railroad president than a bishop,—­wouldn’t they?”

“Most young men would,” agreed Hodder, quickly, “but they are not the young men who ought to be bishops, you’ll admit that.”

The financier, be it recorded to his credit, did not lack appreciation of this thrust, and, for the first time, he laughed with something resembling heartiness.  This laughter, in which Hodder joined, seemed suddenly to put them on a new footing—­a little surprising to both.

“Come,” said the financier, rising, “I’m sure you like pictures, and Langmaid tells me you have a fancy for first editions.  Would you care to go to the gallery?”

“By all means,” the rector assented.

Their footsteps, as they crossed the hardwood floors, echoed in the empty house.  After pausing to contemplate a Millet on the stair landing, they came at last to the huge, silent gallery, where the soft but adequate light fell upon many masterpieces, ancient and modern.  And it was here, while gazing at the Corots and Bonheurs, Lawrences, Romneys, Copleys, and Halses, that Hodder’s sense of their owner’s isolation grew almost overpowering Once, glancing over his shoulder at Mr. Parr, he surprised in his eyes an expression almost of pain.

“These pictures must give you great pleasure,” he said.

“Oh,” replied the banker, in a queer voice, “I’m always glad when any one appreciates them.  I never come in here alone.”

Hodder did not reply.  They passed along to an upstairs sitting-room, which must, Hodder thought, be directly over the dining-room.  Between its windows was a case containing priceless curios.

“My wife liked this room,” Mr. Parr explained, as he opened the case.  When they had inspected it, the rector stood for a moment gazing out at a formal garden at the back of the house.  The stalks of late flowers lay withering, but here and there the leaves were still vivid, and clusters of crimson berries gleamed in the autumn sunshine.  A pergola ran down the middle, and through denuded grape-vines he caught a glimpse, at the far end, of sculptured figures and curving marble benches surrounding a pool.

“What a wonderful spot!” he exclaimed.