But Ruth did trouble herself. That evening she and her father were sitting in the rotunda of the big hotel with Aynsley and Clay. The spacious hall was lavishly decorated and groups of well-dressed men and women moved up and down between the columns and sat chatting on the lounges. Some were passengers from the Empress and some leading inhabitants of the town who, as is not uncommon in the West, dined at the hotel. Outside there was obviously a fall of sleet, for the men who came in stamped their feet in the vestibule and shook wet flakes from the fur-coats they handed to a porter.
Perhaps it was the air of luxury, the company of prosperous people, and the glitter of the place, that made Ruth think of Jimmy walking the wet streets. The contrast between his lot and the comfort she enjoyed was marked, and she felt disturbed and pitiful. This, however, could not benefit Jimmy; and, although he had rather pointedly avoided any attempt to presume upon their friendship or to enlist her sympathy, she longed to offer him some practical help. She must try to find out something about his affairs, using subtlety where needed; while generally frank, she was not repelled by the idea of intriguing, so long as her object was good. It was obvious that in Clay she had a clever man to contend against; but this rather added to the fascination of the thing, and she had some confidence in her own ability.
“I met Jimmy Farquhar this afternoon,” she said abruptly, speaking to her father.
“The Empress’s mate? What is he doing in Vancouver, and why didn’t you ask him in?”
“He wouldn’t come. I gathered that he’d been having rather a hard time lately.”
The remark she had made at a venture had not been wasted. Her father’s easy manner was not assumed; it was natural, and convinced her that he was not connected with Jimmy’s misfortunes. This was a relief, but she had learned something else, for, watching Clay closely, she had seen him frown. The change in his expression was slight, but she had expected him to exercise self-control and she saw that he was displeased at the mention of Farquhar. This implied that he had a good reason for keeping his dealings with Jimmy in the dark.
“Then I must try to overcome his objections if I run across him,” said Osborne. “I liked the man.”
“The C.P.R. pick their officers carefully,” Clay remarked with a careless smile at Ruth. “Still, the fellow didn’t show much taste when he refused your invitation.”
“I really didn’t feel flattered,” Ruth said lightly, wondering whether he had imagined that he might learn something from an unguarded reply.
“I guess he’s not worth thinking much about. You wouldn’t have had to ask me twice when I was a young man, but it’s my opinion that the present generation have no blood in them.”