The stiff, awkward figure had changed.

The preacher's sincerity had lent him dignity, and his simple use of a simple tinker's words had suddenly uplifted him to a higher plane.
"Do not you think you might go about it in a less uncompromising spirit?
You might succeed better and do more good," said Keith.
"No, sir; I will make no compromise with the devil--not even to succeed.
Good-by.

I am sorry to find you among the obdurate." As he shook hands, his jaw was set fast and his eye was burning.

He strode off with the step of a soldier advancing in battle.
Keith had not long to wait to test old Gilsey's advice.

He was sitting in the public room of the Windsor, a few evenings later, among the motley crew that thronged that popular resort, who were discoursing of many things, from J.Quincy Plume's last editorial on "The New Fanny Elssler," to the future of Gumbolt, when Mr.Plume himself entered.