The man who stepped into the shop could hardly be described as a suitor, what with that long black cassock, white, clerical collar and black saturno hat. He was, most evidently, a priest. He was tall, but very thin, his face rather gaunt and grey and his cheeks hollow. So father Richards had returned to town at last. He was happy for it. Serving the people of God was what he had been ordained for, although he was afraid to run into a certain P.C. Crane and working as an assistant priest under Father Kemble came with its difficulties. He was happy though.

"Ah, good morning, Miss Goodman," he returned when the florist greeted him. He walked over to the counter. "I was wondering if you do flower pieces."