proceedings at once. As it is—am I to take proceedings or no?"
"You see," said the Vicar in horrible perplexity.
"Well?"
"Arrangements have to be made."
"He's a mischief-making idler. … I know the breed. But I'll give you a week———"
"Thank you," said the Vicar. "I understand your position. I perceive the situation is getting intolerable. …"
"Sorry to give you this bother, of course," said Sir John.
"A week," said the Vicar.
"A week," said Sir John, leaving.
The Vicar remained sitting before his desk in his study. "A week!" he said after an immense silence. "Here is an Angel, a glorious Angel, who has quickened my soul to beauty and delight, who has opened my eyes to Wonderland, and something more than Wonderland, … and I have promised to get rid of him in a week! What are we men made of? … How can I tell him?"
He began to walk up and down the room,
