Ruth Babcock had had a large place in his thoughts since he had met her two years before. He admired her and was sure if he would allow himself to he would love her—but what right did he have to allow himself to fall in love with a girl when he couldn't properly provide for his own needs!
He had felt bitter pangs of jealousy when he had seen Ruth with Golter. He didn't blame her for accepting the attentions of someone who had an income sufficient to take her out in public and properly entertain her, one who had a right to entertain thoughts of love and matrimony—but he didn't like this man Golter and wished that she would not keep company with him. Golter was a snob and in no sense a man that appealed to men, but deep down in his heart Harold knew that he would be unhappy to see Ruth escorted by any man. If he wasn't so poverty stricken he wouldn't stand back for anyone. His best suit was hardly decent to appear in at social affairs. He would not, in his present condition, embarrass Ruth by asking her to accompany him any place, but maybe fortune would soon smile on him. If he landed the city job and the fifteen thousand dollars, things would be different. His reverie was interrupted by a small boy who entered the office and asked, "This Mr. King?"
"Yes."
"Here's a letter for you. A young lady sent it to you."
"Was she good looking?" asked Harold, smiling.
"You bet yer life. She's a peach."
"Well, I'm interested. What do I owe you?"
"How'd a dime be?"
"All right." Harold tossed him the coin.
As he was going out the door he stopped and looked back. "Say, mister, the girl had done give me one dime, but I thought you'd want to go fifty-fifty with her." He hurried down the stairway without waiting for a reply.