He grasped the prelate's hand warmly, turned toward the door, and then suddenly turned back.
"Say, Bishop," he said, "would you mind calling Jane Chichester in here just as soon as I open the door? She's been waiting a long time to see you."
"I'll be glad to."
"Thank you!" There was a tone of deep gratefulness in Barry's voice.
The bishop was as good as his word. Out of a half dozen callers waiting to see him he selected Miss Chichester for his next interview, and Barry made a successful escape.
Westgate was the first member of the vestry to arrive at the Tracy house on the evening of the consultation with the bishop. He had not been there before since the night on which Ruth had decreed their separation. He looked around on the familiar walls of the library, burdened with books and rich with pictures, and his memory went back to those other evenings when the stately room was lighted by the presence of one who still held his heart in thrall. It was not merely an emotional sadness from which he suffered as he stood there; he was aware also of an actual, stifling pain in his breast, the reaction of spiritual distress on the physical organs of life. A great longing rose within him that he might hear the soft sweep of her garments on the staircase, just as he used to hear it in the old days, that he might see her figure outlined in the doorway, and catch the welcoming smile on her face There was a movement in the hall, the rustling of a gown, and then, not Ruth, but her mother fluttered in. She was trembling with excitement. She felt that the climax of an eventful day was about to be reached. Her overstrained nerves were yielding to the pressure that had been put on them.
"Oh, Philip!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you came first. I wanted to see you. I wanted to ask you not to let him send Mr. Farrar away."
