“You can tell him if you want to,” Ruth rejoined, calmly. “He'll be so pleased that he'll double your salary on the spot.”
“And you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with fun.
“I'll be pensioned, of course.”
“You're all right,” he returned, “but I guess I won't tell him. Riches lead to temptation, and if I'm going to be on The Tribune I'd hate to have you pensioned.”
Hepsey appeared to have a great deal of employment in the dining-room, and was very quiet about it, with long pauses between her leisurely movements. Winfield did not seem to notice it, but it jarred upon Ruth, and she was relieved when he said he must go.
“You'll come again, won't you?” she asked.
“I will, indeed.”
She stood at the window, unconsciously watching him as he went down the hill with a long, free stride. She liked the strength in his broad shoulders, his well modulated voice, and his clear, honest eyes; but after all he was nothing but a boy.
“Miss Thorne,” said Hepsey, at her elbow, “is that your beau?” It was not impertinence, but sheer friendly interest which could not be mistaken for anything else.
“No,” she answered; “of course not.”