She rose and held out her hand to him. He took it, but he said:
“I can stay still longer if——”
She interrupted him:
“It is not at all necessary. Indeed, I would prefer that you should go now.”
It was plain to the rector that she did not care to have him witness her outburst of wrath when it should come. Yet he was not quite satisfied to go and leave Barry alone with her, unsuspecting and unprotected. It seemed a bit cowardly on his part, much as he might dread to see the hurricane. He half hoped that Barry would say something that would make it necessary for him to remain. But Barry said nothing of the kind. He simply shook hands and remarked that he would doubtless overtake the minister on the way back, and added that his errand was about done anyway, with the exception of handing Mrs. Bradley the check and getting her signature to the voucher, and he was sure that that could be done without ministerial help. Indeed, in his own mind, he was rather pleased than otherwise at the prospect of being alone for a few minutes with this remarkable woman, even with the stark body of her dead husband lying grimly in the next room.
So the Reverend Mr. Farrar went his way. The door closed behind him, and Mrs. Bradley and Barry turned back into the room, but they did not resume their seats. He lifted the flap of the envelope which he still held in his hand, and drew forth a check and a voucher.
“If you will kindly sign this receipt,” he said, “I will hand you the check. I brought my fountain pen with me. I didn’t know how you might be fixed here for writing materials.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” she remarked.
She took the check and looked at it carefully.
“And is this,” she asked, “your father’s signature?”