Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts both of
mother and daughter. The latter was naturally surprised at his unexpected
invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by another and quite
different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself. Mrs. Levice was
in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in the evening.

"By all means, let her go," replied he; "why should you have had any
misgivings about it? I am sure I am glad she is going."

"But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow their girls
to go out with strangers."

"Is that part of our religion?"

"No; but custom is in itself a religion. People do talk so at every little
innovation against convention."

"What will they say? Nothing detrimental either to Ruth or the doctor.
Pshaw, Esther! You ought to feel proud that Dr. Kemp has asked the child.
If she wishes to go, don't set an impossible bogy in the way of her
enjoyment. Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you would if you
said to the doctor, 'I can't let her go on account of people's tongues,'
and that is the only honest excuse you can offer." So in his manly,
practical way he decided it.

On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her pale suede
glove. Kemp had not yet come in. She looked unusually well in her dull
sage-green gown. A tiny toque of the same color rested on her soft dark
hair. The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealed by the
broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly told that she