The letter was an offer from one of the big Eastern lines. While the doctor knew very little of railroads, he understood that the offer was a fine one, and was impressed accordingly.
“I'd take it.” he said. “I wouldn't fritter away my time here. Precious little thanks you'll ever get.”
“I can't honorably break with General Cornish. In fact, I have already declined, but I wanted you to see the letter.”
“I am sorry for your sake that you did. You are sure to have more trouble.”
“So much the more reason why I should stay.”
“I am quite frank with you, Oakley. Some strong influence is at work. No, it hasn't to do with your father. You can't well be held accountable for his acts.”
Ryder's laughter reached them as he spoke. Oakley could see him faintly outlined in the moonlight, where he sat between Constance Emory and her mother. The influence was there. It was probably at work at that very moment.
“I wouldn't be made a martyr through any chivalrous sense of duty,” continued the doctor. “I'd look out for myself.”
Dan laughed again. “You are preaching cowardice at a great rate.”
“Well, what's the use of sacrificing one's self? You possess a most horrible sense of rectitude.”