"Yes, I daresay it would be better to reserve private conversations for later," the priest replied slowly. He looked at the young man with stern disapproval, though one really never could be sure what was going on.
"I was told that a parishioner of mine had given birth, and was coming in to have a look at the infant. Who, it seems, doesn't exist," he added. It was strange for him to speak up like this in front of a small crowd of strangers and so one hand slipped into his pocket, clutching at the rosary there for safety. He began to count the beads with his fingers, automatically.
"I came upon Mrs. Fry, and now all of you. How do you account for yourselves?" One could not be sure of anyone here, Mrs. Fry excluded...he hoped.