"Thank you!" he said, "but I have important matters to attend to in the city, and, with Mrs. Bradley's permission, I will go."
She had stood there listening, a suspicion of a smile shaping itself on the full and perfectly curved lips, a peculiar gleam in her dark eyes over which the lids were now partly drooping. She turned to the rector.
"I'd rather you would stay," she said. "I, also, want you to hear what this gentleman has to say."
"If you wish it, certainly!" He placed a chair for her, and they all seated themselves.
"That's very kind of you, Farrar, I'm sure," said Barry. He removed his gloves, and drew a long envelope from an inner pocket of his coat. Holding the envelope in his hand he continued:
"I have here, Mrs. Bradley, an evidence of the generosity and good will toward you of the Malleson Manufacturing Company of which I have the honor to be vice-president. The company recognizes the fact that at the time of the injuries which resulted in his death, your husband was in the employ of our company, and that through no fault of ours, and I presume I may safely say, through no fault of his, the accident happened which"
Barry suddenly stopped. He had caught sight, for the first time, of the sheeted and recumbent figure in the adjoining room. From a child he had had an unreasoning fear of dead bodies, and a dread of all the physical conditions and changes which the passing of life implies. The vision of death which confronted him stopped his flow of speech, and sent to the roots of his hair that chilly creepiness that strikes into the flesh when things dreaded and feared are suddenly seen. His wide eyes were fixed on the repellent object in the next room, and it was apparent that he was powerless to turn them away, for he said to the rector without looking at him:
"A—Farrar, would you mind closing that door?"
