Francis leaned in, and Edmund had no choice but to look him in the face as he spoke.  He had a little trouble following along, but most of what he said made sense.  He couldn't guarantee anyone else would love her, and Mable didn't want anyone else but him to do what he was doing.

Francis was so smart.  Edmund mimicked him and touched his shoulder, just with the tips of his fingers, appreciative.

"St. Hilda's?  I know... hey, I know that place," he said, squinting.  "Father - Father Brennan's there, he - he paid for our hotel room... do you know him?  He's tall like you, y'know."