he hills in silence by his
side.

When they passed out of the last clump of trees near the subway station
she looked up into his face and slowly asked:

"Did any one else ever have that effect on you, Jim?"

"Yes," he answered soberly.

"Who?"

The question was asked in a low whisper, but it was not so low that
Stuart failed to catch its accent of pain.

He laughed, teasingly.

"My mother."

"And no one else?"

"No one else."

"Well, I'm jealous of that sort of influence. I wish a monopoly."

"You have it, dear. Somehow others bring pain and storm and stress. But
you have always brought peace and rest."

"Then I'm content."

She looked up and laughed softly.

CHAPTER IX

BENEATH THE SKIN

Stuart rose next morning with a dull headache. The more he had puzzled
over the speech he should make to the mob besieging Bivens's bank the
more doubtful seemed the outcome. Still to remain silent longer, amid
the accusations which were being daily hurled at him, was intolerable.
He was possessed with a fierce desire to meet at least one of his foes
face to face.

He took his breakfast early and walked down town to his office through
the Bowery and Centre Street as he was in the habit of doing
occasionally. Everything rubbed him the wrong way this morning. Every
sight and sound of the city seemed to bruise and hurt. Never before had
the ugliness of the elevated railroad struck him with such crushing
hopelessness. He felt that its rusty hideous form, looming against the
sky line, was a crime. The crowded trolley cars, the rushing, rattling
lines of drays, the ugly, dirty, cheap-looking people hurrying past--it
was all horrible!

The sense of loneliness and isolation grew upon him--a sort of dumb
hatred of all these unthinking stolid beasts of burden who were bending
their backs daily to their stupid tasks, trampling each other to death,
too, in their own mad sordid scramble for money.

He paused at the Brooklyn Bridge and stood in silence while the black
torrent of unmeaning faces, whose expression this morning was
distinctly inhuman, rolled past and spread out into the square and
streets.

He was glad for the moment that not one of them knew him, though he was
daily giving his life to their service.

He turned and pushed his way through the throngs, crossed the City Hall
Square and in a few minutes reached the Broadway corner on which the
Bivens bank stood. Its magnificent marble facade, crowned