“I think,” said he, turning his horses westward, “I shall have to make a call out here on Jones Street before going to Bob. You will not mind the delay, Miss Levice, I hope.”
“Oh, no. This is ‘my afternoon off,’ you know. Father is at home, and my mother will not miss me in the least. I was just thinking—”
She came to a sudden pause. She had just remembered that she was about to become communicative to a comparative stranger; the intent, interested look in Kemp’s eye as he glanced at her was the disturbing element.
“You were thinking what?” he prompted with his eye now to the horses’ heads.
“I am afraid you would not be edified if I continued,” she answered hastily, biting her lip. She had been about to remark that her father would miss her, nevertheless—but such personal platitudes are not always in good taste. Seeing that she was disinclined to finish her sentence, he did not urge her; and a few minutes later he drew up his horses before a rather imposing house.
“I shall not be gone a minute, I think,” he said, as he sprang out and was about to attach the reins to the post.
“Let me hold them, please,” said Ruth, eagerly stretching forth a hand.
He placed them in her hand with a smile, and turned in at the gateway.
He had been in the house about five minutes when she saw him come out hastily. His hat was pulled down over his brows, which were gathered in an unmistakable frown. At the moment when he slammed the gate behind him, a stout woman hurrying along the sidewalk accosted him breathlessly.
He waited stolidly with his foot on the carriage-step till she came up.