He remarked that Mr.Schroeter moved with a quicker step, and looked round with a brighter glance than usual.
Never had Anton so honored him before; he seemed, as it were, transfigured in his eyes.

In wild delight, our hero said to himself, "This is poetry--the poetry of business; we can only experience this thrilling sense of power and energy in working our way against the stream.

When people say that these times are wanting in inspiration, and our calling wanting most of all, they talk nonsense.

That man is at this very moment staking all he has at a single cast--all that he holds dearest, the result of a long life, his pride, his honor, his happiness; and there he sits coolly at his desk, writes letters about logwood, and examines samples of clover-seed--nay, I believe that he actually laughs within himself." So mused Anton while locking up his desk and preparing to join his colleagues.

He found them discussing, over a cup of tea, the news of the day, and its probable effect upon business, with a pleasant sort of shudder.