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Mrs Satterthwaite sat on the edge of her chair; she had always the air of being just about to go out somewhere or of having just come in and being on the point of going to take her things off. She said:

'There's been a telegram waiting for her all the afternoon. I knew she was coming.'

Father Consett said:

'I saw it in the rack myself. I misdoubted it.' He added: 'Oh dear, oh dear! After all we've talked about it; now it's come.'

Mrs Satterthwaite said:

'I've been a wicked woman myself as these things are measured; but...

Father Consett said:

'Ye have! It's no doubt from you she gets it, for your husband was a good man. But one wicked woman is enough for my contemplation at a time. I'm no St Anthony...The young man says he will take her back?'

'On conditions,' Mrs Satterthwaite said. 'He is coming here to have an interview.'

The priest said:

'Heaven knows, Mrs Satterthwaite, there are times when to a poor priest the rule of the Church as regards marriage seems bitter hard and he almost doubts her inscrutable wisdom. He doesn't mind you. But at times I wish that that young man would take what advantage--it's all there is!--that he can of being a Protestant and divorce Sylvia. For I tell you there are bitter things to see amongst my flock over there...' He made a vague gesture towards the infinite...'And bitter things I've seen, for the heart of man is a wicked place. But never a bitterer than this young man's lot.'