said, --

"With this year's love, Father."

The doctor grew interested.

She took another, and lighting it as gracefully, and without the slightest
approach to Bohemianism, gave it into Louis's outstretched hand.

"Well?" he suggested, holding it from his lips till she had spoken.

"I can think of nothing you care for sufficiently to wish you."

"Nothing?"

"Unless," with sudden mischief, "I wish you a comfortable bed all the year
round--and pleasant dreams, Louis."

"That is much," he answered dryly as he drew a cloud of smoke.

The doctor became anticipative.

Ruth's embarrassment was evident as she turned and offered him a cigar.

"Do you smoke?" she asked, holding out the box.

"Like a chimney," he replied, looking at her, but taking none, "and in the
same manner as other common mortals."

She stood still, but withdrew her hand a little as if repelling the hint