"They're all good men," said Mr. Cunningham, "each in his own way. The Irish priesthood is honoured all the world over."
"O yes," said Mr. Power.
"Not like some of the other priesthoods on the continent," said Mr. M'Coy, "unworthy of the name."
"Perhaps you're right," said Mr. Kernan, relenting.
"Of course I'm right," said Mr. Cunningham. "I haven't been in the world all this time and seen most sides of it without being a judge of character."
The gentlemen drank again, one following another's example. Mr. Kernan seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He was impressed. He had a high opinion of Mr. Cunningham as a judge of character and as a reader of faces. He asked for particulars.
"O, it's just a retreat, you know," said Mr. Cunningham. "Father Purdon is giving it. It's for business men, you know.
"He won't be too hard on us, Tom," said Mr. Power persuasively.
"Father Purdon? Father Purdon?" said the invalid.
"O, you must know him, Tom," said Mr. Cunningham stoutly. "Fine, jolly fellow! He's a man of the world like ourselves."
"Ah, . . . yes. I think I know him. Rather red face; tall."
"That's the man."