was feeling a little shy. Presently the bell rang, and Kemp came in, his
open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath. He came forward hastily.

"I am a little late," he said, taking her hand, "but it was unavoidable.
Ten minutes to eight," looking at his watch; "the horses must make good
time."

"It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?" asked Ruth, for want of
something better to say as she turned for her wrap.

"I did not feel it," he replied, intercepting her. "But this furry thing
will keep the cold off, if there is any," he continued, as he held it for
her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at her throat. A
strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached so close her
own.

"How are your mother and father?" He asked, holding the door open, while
she turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment.

"They are as usual," she answered. "Father expects to see you after the
play. You will come in for a little supper, will you not?"

"That sounds alluring," he responded lightly, his quick eye remarking, as
she came toward him, the dainty femininity of her loveliness, that seemed
to have caught a grace beyond the reach of art.

It thus happened that they took their places just as the curtain rose.


Chapter IX