"But what?" said Drew.
Her arms fell limply down to her sides and her chin began to quiver.
"He kissed me this afternoon," she stammered, "and I—kissed him. And, worse than that, we were both—glad."
Trying to brush the fog away from his eyes, Drew almost sprang across the room at her, and she gave a queer little cry and fled, not away from him, but right into his arms, as though there was her only haven. "Would you be apt to hurt me?" she gasped with a funny-sad sort of inquisitiveness. Then she backed away and held out her hand like a man's to Drew's shaking fingers. "I'm very much ashamed," she said, "about this afternoon. Oh, very, very, very much ashamed. I haven't ever been a really good wife to you, you know, but I never have cheated before until to-day. I promise you faithfully that it sha'n't happen again. But, Drew"—her face flushed utterly crimson—"but, Drew—I honestly think that it had to happen to-day."
Drew's tortured eyes watched her keenly for a second and then his look softened. "Will you please tell Aleck," he suggested, "that you told me all about it and that I—laughed?"
It was not till some time in December, however, after a nervous, evasive, speechless sort of week, that Ruth appeared abruptly one day at Drew's office, looking for all the world like the frightened child who had sought him out there the June before.
"Drew, you're five years older than I am, aren't you?" she began disconnectedly. "And you've always been older than I am, and stronger than I am, and wiser than I am. And you've always gone ahead in school and play and everything, and learned what you wanted to and then come back—and gotten me. And it always made everything—oh, so much easier for me—and I thought it was a magic scheme that simply couldn't fail to work. But I'm afraid I'm not quite as smart as I used to be—I can't seem to catch up with you this time."
"What do you mean?" said Drew.
She began to fidget with her gloves. "Do you know what month it is?" she asked abruptly.
"Why, yes," said Drew, just a bit drearily. "It's December. What of it?"