the stem of his glass. "I have put on flesh since then," he said. [Pause.]
"I have changed and developed very much. The battle of the Flesh and Spirit does not trouble me as it did. Every day I feel less confidence in my beliefs, and more in God. I live, I am afraid, a quiescent life, duties fairly done, a little ornithology and a little chess, a trifle of mathematical trifling. My times are in His hands———"
The Vicar sighed and became pensive. The Angel watched him, and the Angel's eyes were troubled with the puzzle of him. "Gluck, gluck, gluck," went the decanter as the Vicar refilled his glass.
§ 19
So the Angel dined and talked to the Vicar, and presently the night came and he was overtaken by yawning.
"Yah—oh!" said the Angel suddenly. "Dear me! A higher power seemed suddenly to stretch my mouth open and a great breath of air went rushing down my throat."
"You yawned," said the Vicar. "Do you never yawn in the angelic country?"
"Never," said the Angel.
"And yet you are immortal!—I suppose you want to go to bed."
"Bed!" said the Angel. "Where's that?
So the Vicar explained darkness to him and the art of going to bed. (The Angels it seems sleep only in
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