"Thank you!"
The hum of an automobile came in to them from the street. The car had evidently stopped in front of Mrs. Bradley's premises. The next minute a knock was heard at her door. She went and opened it. Barry Malleson stood there, smiling.
"Mrs. Bradley, I believe?" he said.
"I am Mrs. Bradley."
"And I am Barry Malleson, vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company."
"Yes?"
She stood in the doorway and he stood on the step. The door opened directly into the sitting-room where the Reverend Mr. Farrar was standing, ready to leave the house. Mrs. Bradley made no move, nor did she invite the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company to enter. He stood for a moment, expectantly, and then asked:
"May I come in, Mrs. Bradley? I am here on an important errand."
"Certainly!" she moved aside, and he entered. His eyes fell upon the rector.
"Why, Farrar!" he exclaimed, "this is certainly a surprise; I may say a most agreeable surprise."
"Thank you!" replied the minister. "I have been making a call of condolence on Mrs. Bradley. I am just going."
"Don't go on my account. In fact I'd rather you would stay. I want you to hear what a soulless corporation is going to do for a destitute widow."
It occurred to the rector that he had forgotten to inquire concerning Mrs. Bradley's physical needs, or to sound her on Westgate's generous proposition. It was evident that Barry was about to relieve him so far as any tender of charity was concerned; but he had no mind to stay and hear the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company blunder tactlessly through an offer that was certain to be resented and refused.
