"How are you?" he asked, smiling, venturing to speak to her because he
was lonely and because he knew no other girl.

She turned gaily, and returned the question, facing him with smiling
lips and genial eyes.

"I haven't seen you for some time," he said. "Are you back here now?"

"For this week," she said. "I'm doing studio work. I don't care for
classes when I can get the other."

"I thought you liked them!" he replied, recalling her gaiety of mood.

"Oh, I don't dislike it. Only, studio work is better."

"We've missed you," he said. "The others haven't been nearly as nice."

"Aren't you complimentary," she laughed, her black eyes looking into his
with a twinkle.

"No, it's so," he returned, and then asked hopefully, "Are you going to
the dinner on the 16th?"

"Maybe," she said. "I haven't made up my mind. It all depends."

"On what?"

"On how I feel and who asks me."

"I shouldn't think there'd be any trouble about that," he observed. "If
I had a girl I'd go," he went on, making a terrific effort to reach the
point where he could ask her. She saw his intention.

"Well?" she laughed.

"Would you go with me?" he ventured, thus so shamelessly assisted.

"Sure!" she said, for she liked him.

"That's fine!" he exclaimed. "Where do you live? I'll want to know
that." He searched for a pencil.

She gave him her number on West Fifty-seventh Street.

Because of his collecting he knew the neighborhood. It was a street of
shabby frame houses far out on the South Side. He remembered great mazes
of trade near it, and unpaved streets and open stretches of wet prairie
land. Somehow it seemed fitting to him that this little flower of the
muck and coal yard area should be a model.

"I'll be sure and get you," he laughed. "You won't forget, will you,
Miss--"

"Just Ruby," she interrupted. "Ruby Kenny."

"It's a pretty name, isn't it?" he said. "It's euphonious. You wouldn't
let me come out some Sunday and see just where it is?"

"Yes, you may," she replied, pleased by his comment on her name. "I'm
home most every Sunday. Come out next Sunday afternoon, if you want to."

"I will," said Eugene.

He walked out to the street with her in a very buoyant mood.

CHAPTER X

Ruby Kenny was the adopted child of an old Irish laborer and his wife
who had taken her from a quarrelling couple when they had practically
deserted her at the age of four years. She was bright, good natured, not
at all informed as to