Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. He hasn't found himself, as they say.
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