“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.
“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——”