He pointed eloquently to the heap of ruins.

“Go over to that warehouse and see the rows of charred bodies!  Look at the agonized faces of the dead, and hear the groans of the dying.  See the living who are scarred or crippled for life.  You are responsible for all that!  If I had accepted your proposal I would have been responsible, too.  And now I mean to spend the rest of my life fighting the conditions that make such a catastrophe as this possible!”

Courtland turned, and in spite of his tatters and soil walked majestically away from him down the street.

Ramsey Thomas stood rooted to the ground, watching him, a strange mingling of emotions chasing one another over his rugged old countenance:  astonishment, admiration, and fury in quick succession.

“Drat him!” he said, under his breath.  “Drat him!  Now he’ll be a worse pest than that little rat of a preacher, for he’s got twice as much brains and education!”

CHAPTER XXX

The summer passed in hard, earnest work.

Courtland had been back at his studies four weeks when there came another letter from Tennelly.  Gila had gone to her aunt’s, down at Beechwood, for a two weeks’ stay.  She was worn out with the various functions of the summer and needed a complete rest.  They were to be married soon, perhaps in December, and there would be a lot to do to prepare for that.  She was going to rest absolutely, and had forbidden him to follow her, so he had some leisure on his hands.  Would Courtland like to spend a week-end somewhere along the coast half-way between?  They could each take their cars and meet wherever Courtland said.

It was Saturday morning when Courtland received the letter.  Pat had gone down to the city for over Sunday.  An inexpressible longing filled him to see Tennelly again, before his marriage completed the wall that was between them.  He wanted to have a real old-fashioned talk; to look into the soul of his friend and see the old loyalty shining there.  He wanted more than all to come close to him once more, and, it might be, tell him about the Christ.

He took down his road-book, turned to the map, and let his finger fall on the coast-line about midway between the city and the seminary.  Looking it up in the book, he found Shadow Beach described as a quiet and exclusive resort with a good inn, excellent service, fine sea-bathing, etc.  Well, that would do as well as anywhere.  He telegraphed Tennelly: 

Meet me at Shadow Beach, Howland’s Inlet, Elm Tree Inn, this
evening.

COURT.