“I trust you have recovered from your crisis, Reverend Milton,” the bishop said with a solicitous smile, “and that you are settling in at last.”
Paul"s anger carried him to his feet. “No, My Lord Bishop, I"m afraid I have not recovered at all. What kind of Church is this that employs murderers? I"m stuck between Dodds"s thugs and a village full of pagans! What am I supposed to do?”
He had chosen not to mention Olwen Williams. Her influence on him was a subjective matter that only he could resolve.
The bishop"s smile slipped sideways a little, but seemed reluctant to depart entirely, giving his features a lop-sided appearance, as if he had been suddenly stricken with Bell"s palsy.
“Every benefice has its individual challenges, Reverend Milton. We must accept them as a test of our faith.
