The door between Ruth's office and the president's office was slightly ajar. She could hear the suppressed voices of Stover and another man. She caught a sentence that caused her to leave her desk and tiptoe to the door. She stood with her ear near the opening.
Ruth had a high sense of honor. She would have been the last one to eavesdrop through idle curiosity. The sentence which she caught convinced her the conversation taking place on the other side of the door concerned her indirectly, if not directly, and she felt warranted in listening.
She listened with bated breath while the color left her cheeks. She opened and shut her hands nervously.
When the conversation ceased and Stover's caller left she sat down to her desk and wrote a note. She looked at her watch; it was almost quitting time. She stepped to the president's office. "Is there anything more tonight?"
"No, Ruth, nothing more tonight. You may go if you wish to."
She went back into her room, tore up the lengthy note that she had written and wrote a very brief one. After she had placed this in an envelope and addressed it, she put on her hat and went out on the street.
She had walked but a short way from the bank when she met a small boy. "Say, boy, will you deliver this note for me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She gave him a dime and he hurried away on his errand.
Harold King had seen but little of Ruth in the last two weeks. He had been busy getting up a perspective and plans to submit to the mayor and commissioners. He had seen Ruth a couple of times lately in ice cream parlors with Golter. That afternoon Harold had submitted his drawing and plans. Now that he had submitted them he wondered if anything would come of it. The architect's fee would be fifteen thousand dollars for this city job. If he could just land that his financial embarrassment would be relieved and he would be sufficiently advertised to get other good jobs. He had been three years in Wilford Springs, and had barely made a living. There had been many expensive buildings erected since he came, but out-of-town architects had been employed. Sometimes he had been discouraged and felt a desire to seek a new location, but his friend, Charles Wilson, would always tell him at such times: "Stay with it and things will come your way; just keep a stiff upper lip. When you get a job, no matter how little it is, do your best and some day the big jobs will be running after you." Harold was inclined to question this philosophy, but nevertheless it encouraged him somewhat.