"My dear MacTurnan, I beg of you not to send this letter."
Father James did not answer; the silence grew painful, and Father Michael asked Father James to show him the relief works that the Government had ordered.
They walked to where the poor people were working, but important as these works were the letter to Rome seemed more important to Father Michael, and he said:—
"My good friend, there isn't a girl that would marry us; now is there? There isn't a girl in Ireland who would touch us with a forty foot pole. Would you have the Pope release the nuns from their vows?"
"I think exceptions should be made in favour of those in orders. But I think it would be for the good of Ireland if the secular clergy were married."
"That's not my point. My point is that even if the decree were rescinded we should not be able to get wives. You've been looking too long in the waste, my dear friend. You've lost yourself in a dream. We shouldn't get a penny. Our parishioners would say, 'Why should we support that fellow and his family?' That's what they'd say."
"We should be poor, no doubt," said Father James. "But not so poor as our parishioners. My parishioners eat yellow meal, and I eat eggs and live in a good house."
"We are educated men, and should live in better houses."
"The greatest saints lived in deserts."
And so the argument went on until the time came to say good-bye, and then Father James said:—