The San Francisco call., 1905-03-26
CHAPTER v.
An Anythingarian.

Two hours later Gordon sat alone in
the room. looking out on the soften
ing sun glare of ST. James street. In
the chastened light the brilliant dark
auburn curls that clustered over his
colorless face showed a richer brown
and under their long black lashes his
eyes had deepened their tint. Nearby,
where Park Place opened. fountain
played, on whose bronze rim dusty
sparrows preened and twined. The
clubs that faced the street were show
Ing signs OF life, and on the pave a
newsboy, for the benefit of late-rising
west-ehd dandles, was crying the pa
pers.
Gordon was waiting for Hobhouse.
They were to sup together this last
night. Tomorrow he was to leave for
Newstead Abbey and the uncomfort-
able ministrations Of his eccentric and
capricfous mother, whom he had not
yet seen. He had come back to his
land and place TO find that enmity
and the taste of home had turned un-
sweet to his palate.
AS he sat now, however, Gordon
had thrust bitterness from his
mood. He was thinking with satisfac-
tion of the copyhold he had
transferred. He had always de-
clared that for what he wrote he
the first, in which he felt he had ex-
pressed something of his real self-if
these brought recompense. 1t was a
fitting disposition he had made. He
had paid an old debt to the man with
the worn waistcoat and kindly. studi-
GUS face-almost the only debt of It's
kind he owed in the world.
The words with which Dallas had
left him recurred to him-"God bless
you!"
Poor, old plodding Dallas!" he
unused refectively. Its curious how
q mans sense of gratitude drags up
his religion-if he has any to drag up.
He thinks now the Creator put it into
my heart to do that-doesn't give him
self a bit of credit for it,"
He laughed reminiscently.
II don't suppose he has seen $500
to spend since he bought that ponyi
He has had a hard row to hoe all his
life. and never did an ounce OF harm
to any living thing. yet at the first turn
Of good luck he fairly oozes thankful
ness to the Almighty. He is church.
man clear through. He believes in re-
yealed religion-though no religion
ever is revealed-and yet he doesn't
mistake theology for Christianity. He
of the word cant. Ah-there goes an
other typei"
Gordon was looking at square. mot
tle-faced man passing slowly on the
opposite side of the street, carrying a
bundle of leaflets, from which now and
then he drew to give paSser-by. He
was high-browed, with eyes that pro-
jected like an insects and were flat
tish in their orbits. He wore a min
isterial cloak over his street costume.
There's Cassidy" he said to HIM
self. "Dr. James Cassidy, on shore
leave, distributing his little doctrinal
tracts. 1 remember him well. He Is
in the navy medical service, but it's
the grief of his life he can't be par
son. He talked enough pedantry over
the ships table of the Pylades, while
was coming home from Greece, to last
me till the resurrection. He is as
ardent a professionalism as any Calvin
istic dean in CATERS and knows all the
hackneyed catch phrases of eternal
punishment. He has an itch for propa-
ganda, and distributes his tracts.
printed at his own expense, on the
street corners for the glory of theol-
ogy. He Is the sort OF Christian who
always writes damned with a dash.
And yet wonder how much real true
Christianity he has-Christianity like
Dallas, I mean. I remember that scar
on his cheek; 1t stands for thrashing
he got once at Bombay from a DESERT
ing ensign named Trevanion-a youth
I met in Greece afterward, and had
cause to remember, by the way!"
His eyes had darkened suddenly
His brows frowned. his firm white
hand ran over his curls as though to
brush away a disagreeable recollec-
ton.
Cassidy would travel half around
the globe to find the deserter that
thrashed him and land him In quod.
That man would deserve 1t richly
enough. but would Cassidy's act be for
the good Of the Kings service7 No.
for the satisfaction OF James Cassidy.