When the two walked down to the outer gate, the contrast between the virile athlete and the shadowy black form of the priest was pathetically vivid.
The busy shuttles of the east wind had spread their cirrus laces even along the western horizon where the sun had vanished, and the sky was one huge arching shell enamelled with mother-of-pearl, as the cloudlets burned in the after-glow.
"Vernon, don't look back. You have balanced your books with the past. Dear old fellow, I wish to think of you as fulfilling the rich promise of our college days."
"Assure me you will give up that Arctic whim. The thought of it distresses me."
"Do not worry about me. The expedition could not be ready to start for at least a year, and by that time I may not need to go. Sir John Franklin's ghost may chat with mine and tell me all the secrets of the Pole, which doubtless he discovered when Arctic ice claimed his body."
He laughed, they shook hands, and parted.
At a bend in the road he turned, looked back and waved his hat to the watching figure standing under the gilt cross, and silhouetted in sharp lines against the opal dome of the west.
CHAPTER XX
"Little mother, the weather is so lovely I really ought to drive with you to Dairy Dingle, instead of letting you go in that dusty, stuffy car; but you will not wait, and you know I have promised to go to the club german to-morrow night."