He went on, studying me with his eyes:
“You think, Dr. Eckhart, that the Foundation would regard these stones as an acceptable gift?”
“So acceptable,” said I, “that I should consider it one of the great opportunities of my life to act as their representative in the transaction.”
“Suppose then,” he concluded, “you write me a letter embodying a request for the gift, and suggesting the best method of arranging the matter.”
I meant to return to the hotel. But it proved quite impossible. I was altogether too excited for that. Instead, I hailed a rickshaw and drove straight for the little hotel near the German glacis. I rushed up to Heloise's room, and knocked.
She was within, eating a solitary dinner off a tray.
I told her of my find. I did n't feel like sitting down, but walked about the room as I talked. I described the stones to her. I imitated, as nearly as I could with my strident voice, the sound of the stones—singing the scale for her, “Poom!—poom!—poom!—poom-m-m!”
Heloise sipped her coffee, and followed me with her eyes. She did n't smile very much. To be quite candid, I don't believe she is much interested in Pien Ch'ings. Though I realize now that I did break in on her abruptly, all full of my triumph, without a thought as to what her mood might be.
Come to think of it, I did n't even ask her if she got her traveler's checks all right.
I went away rather crestfallen. She suggested that I sit, but I did n't. I could n't adjust myself, for some reason. All my life I have dreamed of seeing even an incomplete Pien Ch'ing. It was one of my goals in this journey. And I don't believe I am altogether to be blamed if the sight of a perfect one, the opportunity to tap it with these very hands—coupled with the thought that I am to be the means of bringing it to America and placing it within the walls of the institution to which I am devoting these best years of my life—