The light was rising, and the shrill sparrows under the eaves had begun to twitter volubly with the day when Bab came out into the hall and closed the door behind her. She had just crossed Mr. Mapy's pipelike arms upon his breast, but she did not weep. Instead, a smile like the morning hovered dreamily on her face. Her hand on the knob, she stood for a moment, then opened the door again.
"Good-by, dear!" she whispered. That was her parting with Mr. Mapleson.
Seeing Varick waiting in the hall, she went toward him unfaltering.
"Bayard!" she said. "Oh, Bayard!"
The next instant, his conscience dumb, all his good resolutions forgotten, Varick had her in his arms—was holding her to him.
"Bab, dearest!" he said.
Her eyes, through the mist that dimmed them, shone up at him like stars.
"You thought I'd come, didn't you?" she said. "You knew, didn't you, I'd never marry for money?"
Varick tried to reassure her.