"Yes, her mother is with her, and"—a sound of wheels—"here's Giles, now, off for the doctor."
The servant passed. "Yes, I got here by the sunset express. I couldn't stay away—with this impending."
"I didn't see you come."
"No, of course you didn't see me, for I didn't go to the station, and so I didn't pass anywhere near your house. I got off at the tank and came up the hill path."
"You must have got drenched; you are drenched."
"Oh no! I got in before the rain began. Let myself in without seeing any one, and found Isabel was over at her mother's. So I waited here."
"Didn't let her know you were home?" asked Ruth, with a penetrating gaze.
"No, I haven't been off the place since I came, but I stepped out so many times into the garden to see if she was coming that I'm soaking wet."
They entered the lighted house, and he turned upon her a glance heavy and wavering with falsehood. His tongue ran like a terrified horse. "Oh—eh—before you go upstairs—Ruth—there's one thing I'm distressed about. I've told Mrs. Morris, and she's promised to see that the doctor understands it perfectly,—though I shall explain it to him myself the moment he comes. And still I wish you'd see that he understands, will you?"
"What is it?"