He had this day secured Kathleen from absolute poverty, no matter what happened, and that had its comfort.

His eyes wandered among the trees.

He could see the yellow feathers of the oriole and catch the note of the whippoorwill, and from the great church near the voices of the choir came over.

He could hear the words "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word." Depart in peace--how much peace was there in the world?
Who had it?
The remembrance of what Kathleen said to him at the door--"I suppose I ought to kiss you"-- came to him, was like a refrain in his ears.
"Peace is the penalty of silence and inaction," he said to himself meditatively.

"Where there is action there is no peace.