"I don't wonder, sir. I should go to bed if I were you."
"I shall. Presently."
The one-sided flush deepened and darkened as he brooded. It fascinated
Rowcliffe.
"I think it would be better," said the Vicar slowly, "if I left the parish. It's the only solution I can see."
He meant to the problem of his respectability.
Rowcliffe said yes, perhaps it would be better.
He was thinking that it would solve his problem too.
For he knew that there would be a problem if Gwenda came back to her father.
The Vicar rose heavily and went to his roll-top desk. He opened it and began fumbling about in it, looking for things.
He was doing this, it seemed to his son-in-law, for quite a long time.