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Rh that he was waging a losing fight, and that he had already reached the point where capitulation was necessary, if he would save himself. She had said as much to Barry Malleson weeks ago. She longed to say it now to the rector himself. She could as little bear to see him go on, unwittingly, to sure destruction, as she could bear to see him yield the splendid position he had taken in behalf of humble humanity.

When Barry came in one day he told her he had heard that the vestry was about to curtail the rector's salary, or to refuse payment of it altogether, on the ground that he had violated his contract with the parish by engaging in activities antagonistic to the Church and to the Christian religion.

"Barry," she said, "I want you to go with me to the rectory."

He looked up inquiringly.

"What—what for?" he asked.

"I want to tell that man to call quits, and save his life," she replied. "If he doesn't, they'll murder him."

Barry stared at her in astonishment.

"Why," he stammered, "it—it isn't as bad as that."

"It's just the same as murder," she said. "They're taking the clothes off his back, the bread out of his mouth, the heart that strengthens and glorifies him out of his body. Come!"

She had already put on her hat and coat, and was drawing on her gloves. Barry followed her in blind obedience. Why she had asked him to go with her he did not stop to inquire. It was enough that she wished it. He would have followed her, at her bidding, to the end of the world. But she knew why she had asked him. In these crucial days the rector's name must be kept above the slightest taint of suspicion. Therefore Mary Bradley must not go alone to visit him. And Barry Malleson was the only person on earth whom she would be willing to have hear her message, save the person to whom she should speak it. For Barry