radiant creature. “Tommy, and Mrs. Tommy, let me introduce you to Miss Gilda Glen.”
The ring of pride in his voice was unmistakable. By merely being seen in his company, Miss Glen had conferred great glory upon him.
The actress was staring with frank interest at Tommy.
“Are you really a Priest?” she asked. “A Roman Catholic Priest, I mean? Because I thought they didn’t have wives.”
Estcourt went off in a boom of laughter again.
“That’s good,” he exploded. “You sly dog, Tommy. Glad he hasn’t renounced you, Mrs. Tommy, with all the rest of the pomps and vanities.”
Gilda Glen took not the faintest notice of him. She continued to stare at Tommy with puzzled eyes.
“Are you a Priest?” she demanded.
“Very few of us are what we seem to be,” said Tommy gently. “My profession is not unlike that of a Priest. I don’t give Absolution—but I listen to Confessions—I—”
“Don’t you listen to him,” interrupted Estcourt. “He’s pulling your leg.”
“If you’re not a clergyman, I don’t see why you’re dressed up like one,” she puzzled. “That is, unless—”
“Not a criminal flying from justice,” said Tommy. “The other thing.”
“Oh!” she frowned, and looked at him with beautiful bewildered eyes.
“I wonder if she’ll ever get that,” thought Tommy to himself. “Not unless I put it in words of one syllable for her, I should say.”