scarlet already--poor boy, you ought not to rush around in this hot
weather--that it won't make you blush. It's this. I'm ambitious. I mean
to marry the finest man in the world and have the greatest little old
baby you ever dreamed of. By the way, now I remember, I told Clarence
that."

Bailey uttered a strangled exclamation.

"It _has_ made you blush! You turned purple. Well, now you know. I
mean my baby to be the most splendid baby that was ever born. He's
going to be strong and straight and clever and handsome, and--oh,
everything else you can think of. That's why I'm waiting for the ideal
young man. If I don't find him I shall die an old maid. But I shall
find him. We may pass each other on Fifth Avenue. We may sit next each
other at a theatre. Wherever it is, I shall just reach right out and
grab him and whisk him away. And if he's married already, he'll have to
get a divorce. And I shan't care who he is. He may be any one. I don't
mind if he's a ribbon clerk or a prize-fighter or a policeman or a
cab-driver, so long as he's the right man."

Bailey plied the handkerchief on his streaming forehead. The heat of
the day and the horror of this conversation were reducing his weight at
the rate of ounces a minute. In his most jaundiced mood he had never
imagined these frightful sentiments to be lurking in Ruth's mind.

"You can't mean that!" he cried.

"I mean every word of it," said Ruth. "I hope, for your sake, he won't
turn out to be a waiter or a prize-fighter, but it won't make any
difference to me."