The mass that follows is even more familiar than Anthony had expected; it seems that in the intervening decades, the gulf between Catholicism and high church Anglicanism has shrunk even further, at least in aesthetics. And he can appreciate those aesthetics, both for their familiarity and their power. It isn’t a King’s College chapel service, but it is lovely in its own small way.

And Gabriel—he glows. Surely it isn’t sentimentality that attracts him to the young man’s brightness. His singing voice is light and pure, and at various points his expression lapses into one of lovely solemnity. The God that Anthony doesn’t believe in would surely judge Anthony for the impure thoughts that cross his mind over the course of the evening.