eed, "the stuff that dreams are made of."

"No, speeches," he amended.

For a few days they both felt cramped, they shifted the old burden of
the day's work uneasily, but routine breaks down resistance in the end,
and they fell into step with their tasks. Paul was driven every moment.
Their hurried visits were unsatisfactory enough. Bob kept in touch with
his plans and movements as well as she could, but her own work was
trying. The late heat was exhausting, and rehearsing always tried her
soul.

"You act like a balky pony, Barbara Garratry," she scolded herself, "I
wish Bill were here to give you a 'good jawin'."

Paul appeared at night about seven, hot, tired, harassed.

"Busy to-night?"

"No."

"What do you say to dinner on a roof garden--a city mountain top?"

"Delighted. Are you speaking to-night?"

"Yes, but not until late."

"May I come?"

"Oh, no, don't. I don't know why I dread so to have you in my audience."

"But I've never heard you speak. Maybe you think I couldn't understand
your speeches."

"Or maybe I'm afraid you'll find out how much of them you inspire."

They went to the garden on top of the Biltmore, and secured a table as
far from people as possible. They looked off over the roofs, which in
the half light took on romantic outlines of mosques and minarets. The
twin spires of St. Patrick's were mistily dominating it all, as usual.
Lights burst slowly, here, there, then the whole upper way was white
with electric radiance.

"This has a certain grandeur, too," Barbara said.

He nodded acquiescence, reading her thought.

"It inspires and stimulates, but it never rests you. I wonder why one's
kind is so exhausting?" He indicated the garden, now full to the last
seat. The chatter, the raised voices, the whirr of electric fans, they
all taxed tired nerves to the snapping point. Barbara caught his weary
look.

"Do you use all that force we stored up in the hills?" she asked.

"Of course. It's like a reserve army to a hard-pressed general."

"Let me tell you how I use it. I can plunge into the calm that lies out
there in the mountains, just as surely as I stepped into that icy stream
the first night we were there. I lie down in it, I drink it, I steep
myself in it, and I come out refreshed and renewed. Try it, it's a trick
of imagination."

The idea caught and held his attention for several minutes.

"Thanks. I'll try that. You're working very hard, aren't you?"

"Yes. I have to.