"I s-suppose you will think I am f-foolish, but I do."
"Not at all, Kate. I am not sure but that I believe it myself."
"Why, Noel S-St. Quentin! And you a Roman Catholic!"
"Well, why not? Wouldn't I be an acceptable convert if I should decide to join their ranks?"
"I-indeed you would not!" cried Kate, delighted to be able to administer a stinging rebuff. "I have an idea that they would refuse even to instruct you without a w-written permission from your priest. Ah, ha! Can't you j-just see your confessor g-giving up a l-little white w-woolly lamb like you? Y-ye are of more value than many s-sparrows."
St. Quentin accelerated the speed of the machine so suddenly that the motor seemed to leap into the air.
"Oh, Lord, Noel! D-don't do that again! The m-machine can't feel it! N-now if you had struck your horse--"
St. Quentin turned on her savagely, but said nothing.
"T-that's right, Noel. D-don't speak. There's a good deal in being a g-gentleman, after all. If you h-hadn't been, you would have said, 'S-shut up, Kate!'"
"If your husband," said St. Quentin, slowly, "ever goes to jail for wife-beating, I shall bail him out."