During a quiet moment of the day, Gabriel had been sitting in one of the pews, reflecting on all he had seen during the morning. There was a rosary in his hand and his fingers were slowly moving over the beads. Sometimes he found the rosary the most boring thing in the world, and he just couldn't get himself to pray it. But at other moments it gave him the sense of a pleasant childhood familiarity and safety. And at other moments, he felt like the simple prayers, uttered by all the faithful, and not just the priests, could somehow connect him more closely to the suffering people he had encountered, and help them carry their cross.

His head turned when he heard someone enter. A young woman stood in the doorway and looked in for a moment. He did not know her. But then again, he did not know a lot of people in the parish, even those who would be faithful congregants, because he had only been here for a week. His predecessor, that curious fellow Father Kemble, had tried to introduce him as well as possible, but starting in a new place was never easy, and Gabriel was still worried he would fail to remember names and faces, and cause offence. He had already realized that most of the working classes stayed away on Sunday morning. The last thing he wanted was to alienate more people.

When the woman turned around, Gabriel got up and approached her, black cassock rustling as it flowed around his skinny frame. "Miss?!" he called out.