Callan was a trying companion.

The sight of him stirred uneasy emotions, the sound of his voice jarred.
"Are you coming to the Grand ?" he said, as we passed St.Denis.
"My God, no," I answered, hotly, "I'm going across the river." "Ah," he murmured, "the Quartier Latin.

I wish I could come with you.
But I've my reputation to think of.

You'd be surprised how people get to hear of my movements.

Besides, I'm a family man." I was agitatedly silent.