week looking for bodies in the
ashes."

"Come, Brady, let us go; I want some fresh air," said Flint, when the
excitement had subsided and another convert had begun his sing-song
confession and adjuration.

"Go, then," answered his friend; "I shall wait to the end. I am going
to walk home with Miss Costello. Yes," he went on, in response to his
friend's questioning glance, "it's to-night or never."

"Then I won't wait," said Flint; "only come in to-morrow and tell me
how you fared."

It was with a feeling of exultation that Flint found himself again on
the street. "How grewsome it would have been," he thought, "to be
carried off in a job lot like that! I can imagine nothing worse,
except perhaps to be killed in a crush at a bargain-counter."

CHAPTER XX

THE UNFORESEEN

"C'est toujours l'imprevu qui arrive."

The ruling thought in Flint's mind as he emerged from the crowded room
and made his way down the shaky stairs to the outer door, was of the
physical delight of inhaling fresh air. He drew in two or three deep,
lung-filling breaths, then he opened his coat and shook it to the air
as he had seen doctors do after coming out of a sick-room.

"Decidedly," he said to himself, "slumming is not my vocation. If I
were drafted into the Salvation Army, I should plead to be permitted
to join the open-air brigade. My sympathy with the poor in general,
and drunkards in particular, is in inverse proportion to the nearness.
Poor Brady! I wonder how he will endure being unequally yoked together
with a believer. Suppose Nora Costello refuses him. No, he is safe
enough, if it is being safe to have her return his love. I saw her
look up as we came in, and though she never glanced in our direction
again till the cry of 'Fire!' came, I saw her look of appeal then,
and his response. Oh, there is no doubt about her accepting him; but
the question is, not how does she feel now, but how will she feel a
year or two years from now? As I grow older, I grow more conservative
on these things. There is such an amount of wear and tear in the
ordinary strain of married life that I hate to see cruel and unusual
ones added. If Winifred Anstice should ever or could ever-- There, I
will not allow myself even to think about it, for it would be so much
harder to give it up afterward if I am compelled to, and, after all,
what chance is there that a girl like Winif