Philip found
himself in the vestry in the midst of a crowd of ecclesiastics from
which he extricated himself with all possible speed; and got once more
into the open air. He threaded his way among the groups standing on the
sidewalks chatting and hindering him. Suddenly a man turned close to
him, and Maurice stood before his face.
"Phil!" he heard the joyful voice of his friend cry. "My dear old Phil,
how glad I am to see you!"
The sound was like a charm which breaks a spell. For the instant all
else was forgotten in the pleasure of being again with his heart-
fellow. He could have flung his arms about the other's neck and kissed
him, so keen was his delight. The doubts and distractions which a
moment earlier had bewildered and tortured him vanished before Wynne's
greeting as a mist before a brisk and wholesome wind. He seized the
hand held out to him, and clasped it almost convulsively.
"Maurice!" was all that he could say.
"I really ought not to recognize you," Maurice said, in a great hearty
voice which sounded to Philip strangely unfamiliar. "Why in the world
have you refused to see me? I assure you I'm not contagious.
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