The fresh young girlish voice died away into silence. Harley, apparently deep in meditation, gazed at the ceiling. His guest felt a surge of derision at this man who thought he had a compact with God to rule the world for his benefit.
“I am sure Mr. Harley must enjoy the Psalms a great deal,” he said ironically, but it was in simple faith the young wife answered eagerly:
“He does. He finds so much in them that is applicable to life.”
“I can see how he might,” agreed the young man.
“Few people take their religion so closely into their every-day lives as he does,” she replied in a low voice, seeing that her husband was lost in thought.
“I am sure you are right.”
“He is very greatly misunderstood, Mr. Ridgway. I am sure if people knew how good he is— But how can they know when the newspapers are so full of falsehoods about him? And the magazines are as bad, he says. It seems to be the fashion to rake up bitter things to say about prominent business men. You must have noticed it.”
“Yes. I believe I have noticed that,” he answered with a grim little laugh.
“Don’t you think it could be explained to these writers? They can’t WANT to distort the truth. It must be they don’t know.”
“You must not take the muckrakers too seriously. They make a living roasting us. A good deal of what they say is true in a way. Personally, I don’t object to it much. It’s a part of the penalty of being successful. That’s how I look at it.”