"It is Mr. Blake, Aunt Amice," said Genevieve in a tone that compelled the stiffening matron to bow.
"Well, good-bye," repeated Blake.
"Please wait," said Genevieve. "If you do not wish to go to church, you must stay to—Here's papa."
"Not late this time, am I?" demanded Mr. Leslie, bustling into the room. "All ready, my dear? No, you've not got on your hat. Hello!" He stopped short, staring at Blake. "Didn't know you were to be with us."
"I'm not," said Blake.
"You're not? H'm,—why not? Not afraid of church, are you? Better join us."
Blake stared in open astonishment. "Thanks, I—Not this time, I guess," he replied.
Mr. Leslie seemed about to press the point, but paused and glanced at his watch.
"Please do not wait for me," said Genevieve. "I have decided not to go."
If Blake expected an outburst over this, he had another surprise in store for him. Mrs. Gantry turned away, tight-lipped and high of chin, either too full for utterance or else aware that it was an instant when silence was the better part of diplomacy.