Miss Roussillon saved you by shooting me, and I love her for it.

Lay on, Father, I deserve more than you can give me." "Surely you do, my son, surely you do; but my love for you will not let me give you pain.

Ah, we priests have to carry all men's loads.

Our backs are broad, however, very broad, my son." "And your fists devilish heavy, Father, devilish heavy." The gentle smile again flickered over the priest's weather-beaten face as he glanced sidewise at Farnsworth and said: "Sometimes, sometimes, my son, a carnal weapon must break the way for a spiritual one.

But we priests rarely have much physical strength; our dependence is upon--" "To be sure; certainly," Farnsworth interrupted, rubbing his side, "your dependence is upon the first thing that offers.