He knew that Kent's religion was not his religion, and he did not press the service which he would otherwise have rendered.

After a moment he rose to his feet, and it was the old Kent who looked up into his face, the clean-faced, gray-eyed, unafraid Kent, smiling in the old way.
"I have one big favor to ask of you, Father," he said.

"If I've got a day to live, I don't want every one forcing the fact on me that I'm dying.

If I've any friends left, I want them to come in and see me, and talk, and crack jokes.

I want to smoke my pipe.