you can make in a month, I know you'll win. And won't it be fun to have you triumphing over all those New York architects! I'm sure Floyd will be just as glad as I if you get it; you feel a little better towards Floyd now, don't you? How is he? Don't let him get lonely, Stewart; this summer he must be pretty sad."
Stewart felt that an undue proportion of Lydia's sympathy was directed to Floyd.
He had tabulated all the small details which Dunbar had specified, and distributed them among his draughtsmen for revision and remedy. The more fundamental difficulties, such as the unsuitable arrangement of the amphitheatre in the General Hospital and the lack of sufficient light in the wards of the three buildings, he had reserved to grapple with himself. His draughtsmen did not know what problem he was working over; they could not imagine what defect in the plans kept him night after night in the office after they had gone. They only knew that he was growing more irritable and returned to them with sour censure their bungling attempts to provide substitutes for the details that had to be sacrificed. Twice one of these harassed assistants had undertaken to spend the evening working over the rejected effort, but each time he had been dismissed. "I want to have the office to myself this evening, Hopkins," Stewart had said. "If you are very anxious to work, you may take your drawings home."
Day by day, night by night, Stewart pored over the plans, and no helpful suggestion came to his mind. It was apparent to him that to give the amphitheatre the proper exposure would mean reversing entirely the scheme of the building, and this seemed impossible. Equally out of the question was it to provide more windows for the wards; they would make the buildings grotesque and ridiculous. An intolerable restlessness seized him after he had thus been confronted all day long and every night with problems o which his mind could offer no solution; it was a restlessness not to be assuaged by pacing round and