“I hope not closer to us.”
“A fool’s hope! Do you know your Bible, Mr. Robson?”
“Not as well as I ought.”
“Better read it more. Those writers were n’t afraid to speak their minds in a good cause.”
At the ugly adjective Jeremy flushed.
“But that’s beside the matter,” she pursued, twinkling at him suddenly. “I came across a quotation that the Deutscher Club ought to send you, suitably illuminated. Isaiah, 14, 8; the last sentence. Look it up.”
“I will,” promised the editor.
“And you can come and tell me how well it fits,” she threw back at him over her departing shoulder.
Important telegrams claimed Jeremy’s attention on his return. Having disposed of them, his mind reverted to Miss Pritchard’s suggestion for a Deutscher Club quotation for him.
‘“Buddy,” he said to the industrious Mr. Higman, “look up the fourteenth chapter of Isaiah, copy the last sentence of the eighth verse and bring it to me.”