"Nothing can justify my action in refusing to marry them," said Father Tom, "nothing. Uncle John, I know that you can extenuate, that you are kind, but I do not see it is possible to look at it from any other side."
"My dear Tom, you are not sure they remained together; the only knowledge you have of the circumstances you obtained from that old woman, Biddy M'Hale, who cannot tell a story properly. An old gossip, who manufactures stories out of the slightest materials ... but who sells excellent eggs; her eggs are always fresh. I had two this morning."
"Uncle John, I did not come here to be laughed at."
"I am not laughing at you, my dear Tom; but really you know very little about this matter."
"I know well enough that they remained together last night. I examined the old woman carefully, and she had just met Kate Kavanagh on the road. There can be no doubt about it," he said.
"But," said Father John, "they intended to be married; the intention was there."
"Yes, but the intention is no use. We are not living in a country where the edicts of the Council of Trent have not been promulgated."
"That's true," said Father John. "But how can I help you? What am I to do?"
"Are you feeling well enough for a walk this morning? Could you come up to Kilmore?"
"But it is two miles—I really—"