in rather a pleasant style, as she sat down and as he sat down.

It was. The intimate ecstasy of the supper-dance had never been
repeated. Denry's exceeding industry in carving out his career, and his
desire to graduate as an accomplished clubman, had prevented him from
giving to his heart that attention which it deserved, having regard to
his tender years.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" said Denry.

Then there was a pause, and they both glanced vaguely about the
inhospitable and very wooden room. Now was the moment for Denry to carry
out his pre-arranged plan in all its savage simplicity. He did so.
"I've called about the rent, Miss Earp," he said, and by an effort
looked her in the eyes.

"The rent?" exclaimed Ruth, as though she had never in all her life
heard of such a thing as rent; as though June 24 (recently past) was an
ordinary day like any other day.

"Yes," said Denry.

"What rent?" asked Ruth, as though for aught she guessed it might have
been the rent of Buckingham Palace that he had called about.

"Yours," said Denry.

"Mine!" she murmured. "But what has my rent got to do with you?" she
demanded. And it was just as if she had said, "But what has my rent got
to do with you, little boy?"