No matter on what his eye rested, he could see only Beauty, Glory, Sunlight!
An assortment of idlers, tramps, and thieves had drifted into the Square and crowded its seats. A drunken woman, her slouchy black dress bedraggled and drenched from the rain, lurched across the walk, dropped on a bench and sat muttering curses at a carriage on the north side. He had often looked at those flashing windows in the millionaire's row beside Fifth Avenue and then at the grim figures of the human wolves and reptiles that crawled into the Square from below Fourth Street, and wondered what might happen if they should really meet. But to-day he gazed with unseeing eyes. There was on all the earth no poverty, no crime, no shame, no despair, no pain, no conflict. The splendour of the sunset was in his soul and the world was athrob with joy.
His reveries were broken by a timid knock on the door and a faint call:
"Jim!"
"Come in!" he cried.
"You're not a bit glad to see me," the soft voice said. "I've been standing out there for ages!"
"Forgive me, Sunshine, I must have been dreaming," Stuart pleaded, leaping from his seat and seizing her hand. "I'm awfully glad to see you!"
"Then, don't call me that name again," she pouted.
"Why not?"
"Because it's undignified. All nicknames are."