Now
we'll read some more of the paper."

He assumed a feverish interest in the market reports, but his thoughts
were wandering. Certainly, nothing could have been worse. He felt as if
a bud, which he had been long and eagerly watching, was suddenly torn
open by a vandal hand. When he first touched Ruth's eyes with his finger
tips, he had trembled like a schoolboy, and he wondered if she knew it.

If she did, she made no sign. Her cheeks were flushed, the lids of her
downcast eyes were pink, and her voice had lost its crisp, incisive
tones, but she read rapidly, without comment or pause, until the supply
of news gave out. Then she began on the advertisements, dreading the
end of her task and vainly wishing for more papers, though in her heart
there was something sweet, which, even to herself, she dared not name.

"That'll do," he said, abruptly, "I'm not interested in the 'midsummer
glove clearing.' I meant to tell you something when I first came--I've
got to go away."

Ruth's heart throbbed painfully, as if some cold hand held it fast.
"Yes," she said, politely, not recognising her own voice.

"It's only for a week--I've got to go to the oculist and see about some
other things. I'll be back before long."

"I shall miss you," she said, conventionally. Then she saw that he was
going away to relieve her from the embarrassment of his presence, and
blessed him accordingly.

"When are you going?" she asked.

"This afternoon. I don't want to go, but it's just as well to have it
over with. Can I do anything for you in the city?"

"No, thank you. My wants are few and, at present, well supplied."

"Don't you want me to match something for you? I thought women always
had pieces of stuff that had to be matched immediately."

"They made you edit the funny column, didn't they?" she asked,
irrelevantly.

"They did, Miss Thorne, and, moreover, I expect I'll have to do it
again."

After a little, they were back on the old footing, yet everything was
different, for there was an obtruding self consciousness on either side.
"What time do you go?" she asked, with assumed indifference.

"Three-fifteen, I think, and it's after one now."

He walked back to the house with her, and, for the second time that day,
Hepsey came out to sweep the piazza.

"Good bye, Miss Thorne," he said.

"Good bye, Mr. Winfield."

That was all, but Ruth looked up with an unspoken question and his eyes
met hers clearly, with no turning aside. S