With that
he had to be content. He still searched, but it was because he had to
search; he had to feel that he was trying, doing something, but no
one realized the uselessness of it more than himself. He was always
looking for her, scanned every face in the crowd, looked up at every
window.
In a day or two he was able to force himself to work steadily,
unremittingly again. The formula of his patent medicine, with which
he was to cure the ills of capital-labor, was taking definite shape,
and the professor was enthusiastic. Not that the professor felt any
certainty of effecting a permanent cure; he was enthusiastic over it
as a huge, splendid experiment. He wanted to see it working and how
men would react to it. He had even planned to write a book about it
when it should have been in operation long enough to show what its
results would be.
Bonbright was sure. He felt that it would bridge the gulf between him
and his employees--that gulf which seemed now to be growing wider and
deeper instead of disappearing.
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