Then he began to think about this place, and was surprised that he was not surprised at running into it like this in the dark.

He knew nothing at all about monasteries--he hardly knew that there were such things in England (one must remember that he had only been a Catholic for about five months), and yet somehow, now that he had come here, it all seemed inevitable.

(I cannot put it better than that: it is what he himself says in his diary.) Then, as he meditated, the door opened, and there came in a thin, eager-looking elderly man, dressed like the brother who followed him, except that over his frock he wore a broad strip of black stuff, something like a long loose apron, hanging from his throat to his feet, and his head was enveloped in a black hood.
Frank stood up and bowed with some difficulty.

He was beginning to feel stiff.
"Well," said the priest sharply, with his bright gray eyes, puckered at the corners, running over and taking in the whole of Frank's figure from close-cut hair to earthy boots.

"Brother James tells me you wish to see me." "It was Brother James who said so, father," said Frank.
"What is it you want ?" "I've got two friends on the road who want shelter--man and woman.