her at the moment, she would have seized her hand with all her own gentle
nobility of soul.

As they turned the corner of the block where Ruth's house stood, Kemp said
deliberately, --

"Well?"

"I thank you. Where does she live?"

Her quiet, natural tone told nothing of the tumult of sweet thoughts
within. They had reached the house, and the doctor opened the gate before
he answered. When he did, after they had passed through, he took both her
hands in his.

"I shall take you there," he said, looking down at her with grave, smiling
eyes; "I knew you would not fail me. When shall I call for you?"

"Do not call for me at all; I think--I know it will be better for me to
walk in alone, as of my own accord."

"Ah, yes!" he said, and told her the address. She ran lightly up the
steps, and as he turned her key in the door for her, she raised a pair of
starry eyes to his.

"Dr. Kemp," she said, "I have had an exceptionally lovely evening. I shall
not soon forget it."

"Nor I," he returned, raising his hat; holding it in his hand, he gently
raised her gloved hand to his lips. Herbert Kemp was a gentleman of the