As shepherd of the flock in tidy, suburban Woodford, just outside Manchester, the slim, silver-haired Rev. Philip St. John (rhymes with Injun) Wilson Ross, Cambridge '26, was irreproachable. On call to his parishioners for religious consolation at any hour, he was also arch and sporting at children's church picnics, full of charm at meetings of the church mothers, and a lively, intelligent man of the world with the businessmen of the local vestry. There were those, of course, whose evil tongues sought mischief in gossip over the frequent calls paid by the Rev....
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