Paoli, where his old spiritual father was lying dead before the altar
of the cloister chapel; and the tears came again into eyes that needed
all their vision to gaze far out, from his watch-tower, on the City
and the World.




THE FLAMING CROSS

I.


It was already midnight when Orville, Thornton and Callovan arose from
a table of the club dining-room and came down in the elevator for
their hats and coats. They had spent an evening together, delightful
to all three. This dinner and chat had become an annual affair, to
give the old chums of St. Wilbur's a chance to live over college days,
and keep a fine friendship bright and lasting. Not one of them was old
enough to feel much change from the spirit of youth. St. Wilbur's was
a fresh memory and a pleasant one; and no friends of business or
society had grown half so precious for any one of these three men as
were the other two, whom the old college had introduced and had bound
to him.

The difference in the appearance of the friends was very marked.
Thornton had kept his promise of growing up as he had started: short,
fat and jovial. Baldness was beginning to show at thirty-five. His
stubby mustache was as unmanageable as the masters of St. Wilbur's had
found its owner to be. He had never affected anything, for he had