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.

It was dark when he reached Elm Tree Inn. The ocean rolled, a long black
line flecked with faint foam, along the shore, and luminous with a
coming moon. Two dim figures, like moving shadows, went down the sand
picked out against the path of the moon. Save for those all was lonely,
up and down. Courtland shivered slightly and almost wished he had
selected some more cheerful spot for the meeting. He had not realized
how desolate a sea can be when it is growing cold. Nevertheless, it was
majestic. It seemed like eternity in its limitless stretch. The lights
in far harbors glinted out in the distance down the coast. Somehow the
vast emptiness filled him with sadness. He felt as if he were entering
upon anything but a pleasant reunion, and half wished he had not come.

Courtland ran his car up to the entrance and sprang out. He was glad to
get inside, where a log fire was crackling. The warmth and the light
dispelled his sadness. Things began to take on a cheerful aspect again.

"I suppose you haven't many guests left," he said, pleasantly, as he
registered.

"Only him, sir!" said the clerk, pointing to the entry just above
Courtland's.

"James T. Aquilar and wife, Seattle, Washington," Courtland read, idly,
and turne