In the upper hall he paused to listen. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. Wood and several serving-men, all well armed, rushed into the room. There was nothing to be learned from her face. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. The lonely widows of robber barons found him irresistible and he was the guest of many a fine table. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief.
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