He is the only one in the whole bunch of
you who stopped shouting long enough to hear what I had to say. I like
him, sir, and if there is one thing you will never find me doing it is
liking the wrong man. I may not know Greek, but I can read men."
The front door was open, and the blast of cold air dispersed all the
foolish fancies that had gathered in Stephen's brain. Beyond the
fountain and the gate he could see the broad road through the Square and
the dark majestic figure of Washington on horseback. The electric signs
were blazing on the roofs of the shops and hotels which had driven the
original dwelling houses out of the neighbouring streets.
Turning as he was descending the steps, the young man looked into the
Governor's face. "Are you sure that you read Julius Gershom correctly?"
he inquired.
For a minute--it could not have been longer--the Governor did not reply.
Was he surprised for once into open discomfiture, or was his nimble wit
engaged in framing a plausible answer? Within the house, where so much
was disappointing and incongruous, Stephen had not felt the lack of
harmony between Gideon Vetch and his surroundings; but against the fine
proportions and the serene stateliness of the exterior, the Governor's
figure appeared aggressively modern.
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