meditated a form of words. It would be absurd to say “Is the Bishop in?” for he knew the Bishop was in. So he said “This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is expecting me.”
Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure—immensely tall and slender, with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly cordial.
“Ah, Mr. Gissing?” he said. “Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company very well. Too well, in fact—Mrs. Borzoi has an account there.”
Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He was still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address.
“It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the Church,” continued the Bishop. “I often thought of approaching the late Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir.”
Gissing began to fear that the object of his
