"Who was that woman, Frank?" she asked at length, her long, dark
lashes blinking rapidly.

"What woman, Ruth?"

"The beauty I saw glide softly into your study."

Gordon smiled as he sank into a chair in the library.

"Miss Kate Ransom, a stranger I never met before."

"You seem a magnet for strange women, and your church their Mecca."

"Yes, and strange men. God knows New York, with its dead and deserted
churches, needs such a Mecca."

"You promised to call, of course?"

"Certainly; it's my business. The Church needs every friend and
every dollar to be had on Manhattan Island."

"And the distinguished young pastor of the Pilgrim Church needs
the smiles of all beautiful women. His wife is a little faded with
worry and care for his children, while crowds hang on his eloquence
and silly women sigh into his handsome face. Ah, Frank, before we
came to New York you had eyes only for me. The city, the crowd and
the flattery of fools have turned your head. You are letting go of
all things you once held. Now the Bible is 'literature.' You are
sighing for the freedom of a 'larger life.' Where will it end? I
wonder if you have weighed marriage in the balances and found it