His wife opened the door for him in silence.
“Who was that woman, Frank?” she asked at length, her long, dark lashes blinking rapidly.
“What woman, Ruth?”
“The beauty I saw glide softly into your study.”
Gordon smiled as he sank into a chair in the library.
“Miss Kate Ransom, a stranger I never met before.”
“You seem a magnet for strange women, and your church their Mecca.”
“Yes, and strange men. God knows New York, with its dead and deserted churches, needs such a Mecca.”
“You promised to call, of course?”
“Certainly; it’s my business. The Church needs every friend and every dollar to be had on Manhattan Island.”