They talked for five minutes. Thoroughly ashamed, Zerchi pressed his forehead against the metal of the car and tried to pray. It mattered little to him at the moment what they might decide to do. He could think only of the girl and the child. He was certain she had been ready to change her mind, had needed only the command, I, a priest of God, adjure thee, and the grace to hear it-if only they had not forced him to stop where she could witness "God’s priest" summarily overruled by "Caesar’s traffic cop." Never to him had Christ’s Kingship seemed more distant.