But the widow herself arose and went to the door and closed it tightly. When she resumed her seat, the smile on her lips was a trifle more pronounced, and the strange light in her eyes glimmered more noticeably.
"You know," said Barry, "a dead body always gets on my nerves, whether it's a horse or a dog or a man. I can't abide the sight of any of them. Well, as I was saying when we were interrupted—let me see! what was I saying?"
"You were speaking," said the widow, "of the generosity of your company."
"Yes," continued Barry, "the—the generosity of my company." He paused again. The untoward incident seemed to have quite broken the continuity of his thought.
"You know, Mrs. Bradley," he went on after a moment, "the company doesn't owe you anything."
"No," she replied, "the obligation is quite on the other side. I owe your company something which I shall some day try to repay—with interest."
Witless and unseeing, he blundered on: "Don't mention it, my good woman. Our company bears no resentment. In fact we have decided, on my recommendation as vice-president, to treat you as generously as we do widows of our employees with whom we have had no quarrel."
"And who have not imagined that they had rights which your company was bound to respect," said the widow.
"Exactly," replied Barry. "Who have not harassed us with ridiculous lawsuits, which they could never hope to win."
"I trust," said the widow, "that you will pardon me for that presumption. I didn't know, really, how ridiculous and unreasonable my lawsuit was until the judge informed me from the bench."
"No, I suppose not. But when you learned, by judicial pronouncement, in what a false position you had
