He nodded. He was a broken old man in what should have been the prime of life. He drank his coffee, then took the whiskey he had refused down on the dock, went to his room, and after a good cool wash, threw himself on the bed.
The fire was on everybody's tongue. Not that fires were a rarity. But this might have been much worse, yet it was bad enough for Jason Chadsey. The air was still full of smoke, there was a dense fog and a cloudy sky. Everywhere you heard the same talk.
The lessons at school went on well enough, though Laverne's nerves were all of a tremble. Just after eleven as recess began she was summoned to the reception room.
David Westbury had been out to the fire and come in again.
"Gad!" he exclaimed. "It's that Chadsey's place! And he had a tremendous stock, a new shipload just in, some others waiting to be loaded up. This is a queer town where every so often there's a big fire. The only amends is that it is rebuilt better. Half of the old rookeries ought to come down, they look so forlorn and ancient."
"Oh, David. Well, if he has lost everything he will be the more willing to give up the girl."
"He will give her up, anyhow," in a determined tone. Some things Chadsey had said still rankled in David Westbury's mind.
He went downtown again. Yes, it was ruin sure enough. Being prosperous now, he could afford to pity the unfortunate ones. Chadsey had gone home. The police were in charge, to keep off the roughs and the thieves.
"We must have the matter settled to-day," he declared to his wife.
"I know where she is at school. Let us go there."