Mrs. Jules Levice was slowly gaining the high-road to recovery, and many of
the restrictions for her cure had been removed. As a consequence, and with
an eye ever to Ruth's social duties, she urged her to leave her more and
more to herself.

As a matter of course, Ruth had laid the case of Bob and his neighborhood
before her father's consideration. A Jewish girl's life is an open page to
her family. Matters of small as well as of larger moment are freely
discussed. The result is that while it robs her of much of her Christian
sister's spontaneity, which often is the latter's greatest charm, it also,
through the sagacity of more experienced heads, guards her against many
indiscretions. This may be a relic of European training, but it enables
parents to instil into the minds of their daughters principles which
compare favorable with the American girl's native self-reliance. It was as
natural for Ruth to consult her father in this trivial matter, in view of
Louis's disapproval, as it would be for her friend, Dorothy Gwynne, to
sally anywhere so long as she herself felt justified in so doing.

Ruth really wished to go; and as her father, after considering the matter,
could find no objection, she went. After that it was enough to tell her
mother that she was going to see Bob. Mrs. Levice had heard the doctor
speak of him to Ruth; and any little charity that came in her way she was
only too happy to forward.

Bob's plain, ungarnished room soon began to show signs of beauty under
Ruth's deft fingers. A pot of mignonette in the window, a small painting
of exquisite chrysanthemums on the wall, a daily bunch of fresh roses, were
the food she brought for his poet soul. But there were other substantial
things.