Malachi lifted his head, but did not return the young woman’s smile.

She was right. Waiting would be infinitely easier than making a hasty decision and regretting it; there was no coming back if he left. It would be the end.

He was not a wonderful priest; he did not even fancy himself a good one, let alone a good person. The constraints of Catholicism had, he believed, smoothed him out. Made him presentable enough to appear better than he was, through the use of holy verses and authority.

“…I see,” he said after a few seconds of silence. Her acceptance was as comforting as it was alienating.

“Then I will consider it for a little while longer,” Malachi nodded once, and slowly pulled his hands back to himself. “Thank you. That’s all I had to say.”

All he could say, more like. All that he felt comfortable telling. He tried a smile then, and gave her shoulder a gentle pat as he resumed their walk.

“I just wanted to hear your opinion before I let myself think on it seriously. It would be quite a change – I’d have to stay in London while I figured out what to do next, but it’s all just a thought.”