She continued her investigation. "Then you have ambitions. Yes, you must have," she cried with animation. "Oh, I want you to have them—ideals too of life. We used to discuss them."
He looked up. "You think I have changed. You want to know how. It is all vague—very vague. Yet, I could put my creed of what conduct is desirable in life in a phrase—in a text."
"Do, John." She leaned over in her interest.
"Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's and to God the things which are God's." The seriousness of the upturned face for a moment kept her silently reflective.
"Caesar! What of Caesar, John?"
"My country, of course; that is simple. The rest, Leila, covers
all—almost all of life and needs no comment. But how serious we are.
Tell me all about home and the village and the horses and Uncle Jim.
He has some grey hairs."
"He may well have grey hairs, John. The times are bad. He is worried.
Imagine Uncle Jim economical!"
"Incredible."
"Yes. He told me that his talk with Colonel Beauregard had made him despair of a peaceful ending, and usually he is hopeful."
"Well, don't make me talk politics. We rarely do. Isn't this outlook beautiful? People rarely come here and it often gives me a chance to be alone and to think."