Excerpt: ... knew it was only a matter of days. Pg 169 XV H. R. dressed to resemble an undertaker, but wearing a beautiful orchid to show he did not do it for a living, called a taxicab, drove to the Diocesan House and sent in his card to the Bishop of New York. The Bishop was a judge of cards. He therefore received H. R. in his study instead of the general waiting-room of which the decorative scheme consisted of "In His Name" in old English and therefore safe from perusal. It might as well have been, "Be Brief!" "How do you do, Bishop Phillipson?" And H. R. held out his hand with such an air of affectionate respect that the Bishop was sure he had confirmed this distinguished-looking young man. But the head of the diocese has to know more than theology. Therefore the Bishop answered, very politely: "I am very well, thank you." "Did you recognize the name?" modestly asked H. R. "Oh yes," said the Bishop, who recently had read about some meeting in Rutgers Square and therefore remembered Rutgers. He was a fine figure of a man with clean-cut features and a look of kindliness so subtly professional as to keep it from being indiscriminatingly benevolent; a good-natured man rather than a strong. One might Pg 170 imagine that he made friends easily, but none could visualize him as a Crusader. He was cursed with an orator's voice, sensitive ears, and the love of words. "Perhaps you've read the newspapers? They've been full of me and my doings these many weeks," said H. R., looking intently at the Bishop. "My dear boy!" expostulated Dr. Phillipson. "I need your help!" said H. R., very earnestly. The Bishop knew it! Those to whom you cannot give cheering words and fifty cents are the worst cases. To relieve physical suffering is far easier than to straighten out those tangles that society calls disreputable-after they get into print. H. R. went on, "I want you to help me to help our church." "Help you to help our church?" blankly repeated the Bishop. The...