"That, you know when you say it, would be next to impossible," came the prompt objection.
"I can try very hard, very gently."
"Certainly! It will ease your conscience for accepting quiet, well-ordered years of ease away from the problems of life."
"O, thou tender friend, you are brutally frank.... You help me make up my mind.... I shall go to this land of Kentucky."
"Do.... 'Au revoir, my happy, sunny France,' you shall say, but many's the time your poor heart shall break for her freedom, the merry, care-free streets of Paris, and the road to Amiens we have traveled so often together."
"Very likely.... I think I shall go," came from the Abbé.
"Are you certain?" again insisted the quiet one, with a note of suspicious eagerness illy suppressed.
The Abbé looked about him, before replying, as if sensing something wrong. "I am absolutely sure!" he said a trifle vehemently.
"I am glad," chuckled the quiet one good humoredly. "I wanted to go myself."