Ralph had gone to Perranpool to see Robert Telfer, but Ruth expected him back every moment.
"Won't you come in and wait for him?" Ruth questioned, looking beyond him into the gathering twilight.
William hesitated for a moment, and then decided that he would.
"I am sure he will not be long," Ruth said, as she busied herself getting the lamp ready. "Mr. Telfer wanted to settle with him, as—as he can, of course, deliver no more concrete."
"It's an awful shame," William said abruptly, and he dropped into Ralph's easy-chair.
"It seems very hard," Ruth said reflectively; "but I tell Ralph it may be all for the best. Perhaps he was getting on too fast and too suddenly."
"He is not the sort to have his head turned by a bit of prosperity," William said, watching his fair hostess out of the corner of his eye.
"At any rate, the danger has been removed—if it was a danger." And Ruth sighed gently.
For several moments there was silence in the room. Ruth had the lamp to light and the blind to pull down and a fresh cover to lay on the table. William watched her with averted face and half-closed eyes. How womanly she was in all her movements; how dainty in her appearance; how gentle in her manner and speech!
William felt as if he would almost risk his hope of heaven for the chance of calling her his, and yet he had not the courage even to hint at what he felt. Her very daintiness and winsomeness seemed to widen the gulf between them. Who was he that he should dare make love to one who was fit for the best in the land? It seemed to him—so unworthy did he seem in his own eyes—utterly impossible that Ruth should ever care for a man of his type.