midday
None of them happened to know the Missioner , and for a time they talked surlily in undertones , evidently viewing with distaste the prospect of having a Holy Joe in their compartment all the way to London ; but when Father Rowley pulled out his pipe , for always when he was away from St. Agnes ' he allowed himself the privilege of smoking , and began to talk to them about their ships and their regiments with unquestionable knowledge , they unbent , so that long before Waterloo was reached it must have been the jolliest compartment in the whole train . It was all done so easily , and yet without any of that deliberate descent from a pedestal , which is the democratic manner of so many parsons ; there was none of that Friar Tuck style of aggressive laymanhood , nor that subtler way of denying Christ -LRB- of course with the best intentions -RRB- which consists of salting the conversation with a few `` damns '' and peppering it with a couple of `` bloodies '' to show that a parson may be what is called human . Father Rowley was simply himself ; and a month later two of the bluejackets in that compartment and one of the soldiers were regular visitors to the Mission House , and what is more regular visitors to the Blessed Sacrament . They reached London soon after midday and went to lunch at a restaurant in Jermyn Street famous for a Russian salad that Father Rowley sometimes spoke of with affection in Chatsea . After lunch they went to a matinée of _ Pelleas and Mélisande _ , the Missioner having been given two stalls by an actor friend . Mark enjoyed the play and was being stirred by the imagination of old , unhappy , far off things until his companion began to laugh . Several clever women who looked as if they had been dragged through a hedge said `` Hush ! ''