"Don't call me good, Bishop!"
"I was going to say it, but I won't. Do you think you can do what you propose?"
"I know it!" And H. R. looked at Dr. Phillipson steadily.
The Bishop looked back. He was no match for H. R.
"I will sign!" said the Bishop.
XVI
H. R. walked slowly to his office. Spring was in the air. The sky was very blue and the air sparkled with sun-dust. Life thrilled in waves. The breeze sang, as it does at times in the city. It had not the harps of the trees to strum on, but it made shift with the corners of the houses. Hand in hand with the breeze from the south came the joy of living that, after all, is merely the joy of loving.
The soul of God's beautiful world—light, heat, beauty, love—percolated into the soul of Hendrik Rutgers and filled it—filled it full.
It called for the One Woman in songs—the same songs the breeze was humming.... Ah, the encouragement of the wind! It bade him take her! It told him exactly whither the breeze was going, whither he should carry her in his arms. It whispered to him the place where he might lay down his burden!