"Well, what is the matter between you and Stover?"
Harold told Wing of his trouble with Stover, beginning back with his application for the position of architect for the city building. He went fully into detail. When he had finished Wing brought his fist down on the table. "I'd like to thrash him, the dirty hound."
"He would have got the thrashing, all right, if he had stuck his head out from behind those bars," said Harold.
"I don't doubt it and he certainly richly deserves it."
It was the middle of the afternoon. Ruth's mind had been greatly perturbed since the mail had brought her the disappointing letter. Since Harold had called, her disappointment vied with curiosity for the mastery.
"Ruth, you are wanted at the 'phone," said Aunt Clara.
"Oh, dear, I wish they wouldn't bother me when I feel so bad."
"Hello!"
"Is this Miss Ruth Babcock?" It was a man's voice.