The Way of the Strong

by Ridgwell Cullum

"I think not—yet, sir."

Frank sighed, too. His relief was lest the news should have been bad. His eyes sought Phyllis's.

Then he turned again to the man.

"You said—at once?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Hendrie was emphatic on the point."

Phyllis looked up into her lover's face.

"You best hurry, Frank."

"Yes."

Frank hurried away, leaving the man to return to the house at his leisure.

Daylight was rapidly dying. Already the remoter corners of the library were lost in growing shadows. Outside the rosy sunset had chilled to a pale yellow, above which a faint twinkle of stars was already visible.