“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, well, Mrs. Newcome was all in with the Cathedral crowd — great opening for Newcome in a place like Calderbury if he’d played his cards properly. As it was … well, there was one incident: Newcome was going round the wards — he’d been operating — and Archdeacon Rogers was going round too, doing his stuff — you remember what a pompous fellow he was? If you knew Calderbury, I’m sure you do remember. Anyhow, in the corridor after the grand tour he kept Newcome and me talking, wasting our time, in point of fact, and one of the things he said was that a surgeon in the course of his job was bound to acquire respect for the mind of God in creating such a wonderful thing as the human body. Of course when parsons talk like that one doesn’t usually say anything — bad form, you know, as well as pretty useless. But Newcome answers in that mild soft-toned voice he had: ‘I’ve just been operating on an enlarged prostate, and, believe me, any intelligent plumber could invent a better drainage system than you and I possess, Archdeacon!’ Of course old Rogers was terribly shocked — I believe that was why he used his influence to prevent Newcome being offered the medical officership.”

David had begun the operation on Charlie at eight o’clock in the morning; the final stage was not complete until after ten. It had been an awkward case, largely inoperable, and complicated by a weak heart. Twice the man had almost died on the table. But at last, still breathing faintly, and with bandages like a great white bundle tied in front of him, he was wheeled away to hours of lingering unconsciousness, days of pain, a few months of half-life, pain again, and death.

David pulled off the stained gloves and washed his hands and face in the lavatory adjoining the theatre. As always after an operation he felt the sudden deflation of personal ascendancy; he had given himself, and was now utterly spent. Rallying himself a little, he visited a few of his patients in the wards; then he rode away for his usual morning round of house calls. One of them was the pneumonia he had been called to the night before; to his surprise and gratification the boy was a little better.

He was late home for lunch and was neither startled nor disconcerted when Susan greeted him with: “Mrs. Newcome wouldn’t wait, sir.”

“Oh, I don’t mind — all I want is some coffee.”

“She asked if you would go in and see her.”

“Eh? Where? Why? What does she want?”

“I don’t know, sir. She’s in the dining room.”

“Oh, all right, I’ll go.”

Because he was used to obeying in these small outward things, he went. Jessica had finished lunch and was toying with biscuits and cheese.

“Really, David, I couldn’t wait for you — I really do think you might try to be punctual for at least one occasion of the day.”