That, at least, was half truth.
A dozen things Father Roland spoke about that night before he alluded to Tavish.

David waited.

He did not want to appear too deeply interested.
He desired to have the thing work itself out in a fortuitous sort of way, governed, as he was, by a strong feeling that he could not explain his position, or his strange and growing interest in the Girl, if the Missioner should by any chance discover the part he had played in the haunting though incidental encounter with the woman on the train.
"Fear--a great fear--his life is haunted by it," said Father Roland, when at last he began talking about Tavish.

He was seated on a pile of balsams, his legs stretched out flat on the floor, his back to the wall, and he smoked thoughtfully as he looked at David.

"A coward?
I don't know.