the spirit as well.

Mr. Britt heard: "'Will he esteem thy riches? No, not gold, nor all the
forces of strength.'"

The usurer commented under his breath with remarks that were not
scriptured. He threw away his cigar and went to a case where he kept
some law books which contained the statutes that were concerned
with money and debts and dependence; he had been hunting through the
legislative acts regarding vagrants and paupers and had been hoping
to light on some legal twist that would serve him. The Prophet kept on
proclaiming. But all at once he shifted from taunts about riches. His
voice was mellow with sincere feeling.

Said the Prophet: "'Behold, thou art fair, my love; thou hast doves'
eyes within thy locks. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep which came up
from the washing. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech
is comely. Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.'"

Mr. Britt did not wait in his office for the completion of the
panegyric. He knew well enough what arriving personage it heralded. He
hurried out into the corridor and faced the radiant girl who came in
from the sunshine. Even one who might question the Prophet's tact would
not have blamed his enthusiasm.

"Vona, you swear out a warrant and I'll have him arrested," stammered
the employer.

She checked a chirrup of laughter and her smile faded when she opened
her eyes on Britt's sourness.