Some of them I coveted for the mountains. Men with clear heads and big
hearts, and built after Sandy M'Naughton's model. It does seem a sinful
waste of God's good human stuff to see these fellows potter away their
lives among theories living and dead, and end up by producing a book!
They are all either making or going to make a book. A good thing we
haven't to read them. But here and there among them is some quiet chap
who will make a book that men will tumble over each other to read.'
Then we paused and looked at each other.
'Well?' I said. He understood me.
'Yes!' he answered slowly, 'doing great work. Every one worships her
just as we do, and she is making them all do something worth while, as
she used to make us.'
He spoke cheerfully and readily as if he were repeating a lesson
well learned, but he could not humbug me. I felt the heartache in the
cheerful tone.
'Tell me about her,' I said, for I knew that if he would talk it would
do him good. And talk he did, often forgetting me, till, as I listened,
I found myself looking again into the fathomless eyes, and hearing
again the heart-searching voice.
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