He was not absent long, however, for he, too, was eager to tell her about the adventure.
“By George! you look stunning, Ruth, in that white fluffiness!” he exclaimed, as he threw her cloak around her shoulders.
“You should have said ‘By Georgette,’” corrected Ruth; “because that’s what my dress is made of!”
She linked her arm through his, and they started down the steps. Harold was blissfully happy; he knew that he had accomplished something worthwhile for her. He hoped to see her win the meet on Wednesday; perhaps, after such a success, he might be able to come to an understanding with her. For Ruth Henry was very attractive, he thought, and although only seventeen, she was undoubtedly the sort of girl to become engaged very young.
However, he said nothing of all this now. Instead, he told her the whole story, just as it had happened, allowing her to realize the perils he had gone through for her sake.
“And you don’t think she’ll ever suspect?” asked Ruth, trembling at the daring of it all.
“Never!”
“Harold!” She laid her other hand over his arm. “You have been wonderful; and I can never thank you enough. But will you promise me one thing more?”
“Absolutely anything!”
“That if she ever should find out, you’ll say it was your own idea to help me, and that I never knew a thing about it?”