"Louis? Why do you think of such a thing?"

"Because I think them particularly well suited. Ruth, pardon me, dear, has
imbibed some very peculiar and high-flown notions. No merely commonplace
young man would make her happy. A man must have some ideas outside of what
his daily life brings him, if she is to spend a moment's interested thought
on him. She has repelled some of the most eligible advances for no obvious
reasons whatever. Now, she does not care a rap for society, and goes only
because I exact it. That is no condition for a young girl to allow herself
to sink into; she owes a duty to her future. I am telling you this
because, of course, you see nothing peculiar in such a course. But it is
time you were roused; you know one look from you is worth a whole sermon
from me. As to my thinking of Louis, well, in running over my list of
eligibles, I found he fulfilled every condition, --good-looking, clever,
cultivated, well-to-do, and--of good family. Why should it not be? They
like each other, and see enough of each other to learn to love. We,
however, must bring it to a head."

"First provide the hearts, little woman. What can I do, ask Louis or
Ruth?"

"Jules," she returned with vexation, "how childish! Don't you feel well?
Your cheeks are rather flushed."

"They are somewhat warm. I am going in to kiss the child good-night; she
ran off while I saw Dr. Kemp out."

Ruth sat in her white dressing-gown, her heavy dark hair about her, her
brush idle in her hand. Her father stood silently in the doorway,
regarding her, a great dread tugging at his heart. Jules Levice was a keen