Van Tyle and Beauchamp coming toward them.
She rose. Her eyes were the brightest Jeff had ever seen. They
were filled with an ardent tenderness. It was as if she were
wrapped in a spiritual exaltation.
"Thank you. Thank you. I can't tell you what you've done for me."
She turned and walked quickly away. To be dragged back to the
commonplace at once was more than she could bear. First she must
get alone with herself, must take stock of this new emotion that
ran like wine through her blood. A pulse throbbed in her throat,
for she was in a passionate glow of altruism.
"I'm glad of life--glad of it--glad of it!" she murmured through
the veil she had lowered to screen her face from observation.
It had come to her as a revelation straight from Heaven that there
can be no salvation without service. And the motive back of
service must be love. Love! That was what Jesus had come to teach
the world, and all these years it had warped and mystified his
message.
She felt that life could never again be gray or colorless. For
there was work waiting that she could do, service that she could
give. And surely there could be no greater happiness than to find
her work and do it gladly.
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