The preacher stood watching the interaction. "Well, gentlemen, can you leave now? I must clean up before church members arrive. Worry not, Mr. Larkin, the parish and I will pray for a speedy recovery." The preacher turned and walked toward the back.
Thomas winced. "That was a dismissal, Mr. Larkin. I will escort you home."
“Fine.” Hugh let out a long-suffering sigh. “And please call me Hugh.”
"Good thing the mortuary and jailhouse are right down the street. I will bet Henry can give you a ride," Thomas chuckled with confidence.
They walked to the church entrance. Hugh swung an arm over Thomas' shoulder for assistance.
"There is this one patient, I care about her, you know. But she won't let me near her. She is all the time accusing me of wanting her fingers. I think she is delirious.”