At the end of Ruth's third week with us--one Saturday night, I believe it was--the door-bell rang about eight o'clock. The maid answered it and when she came upstairs and passed by the door of Will's study (which is a little room over the front door and where we sit evenings) I said with a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness, it's for Ruth. I did want to finish this ruffle." And a moment later I added, "I wonder what excuse she'll send down to-night." I was surprised five minutes later by Ruth's appearance in the doorway. She had put on a favourite gown of hers--crow-black meteor satin, so plain it had kind of a naked appearance, with a V-shaped neck that showed a bit of Ruth's throat. There wasn't a scrap of any kind of trimming on it. "Will you hook this up please?" she asked, and when I had finished, "Thanks," she said, and with no explanation went downstairs. "I wonder who it can be!" I exclaimed after she had departed. "It's the first one she has seen." Will looked up and smiled. "Oh, it's just a _man_. Rest assured that this pose of Ruth's can't last much longer. Three weeks of a diet that excludes all forms of masculine admiration is a long fast for Ruth. They'll be calling here thick and fast now." But it wasn't just a man! About nine-thirty I stole down the back stairs to get two pieces of chocolate cake and two glasses of milk for Will and me. I peeked into the front hall before crawling back again. "Will," I said two minutes later, "leaning up against the Chippendale chair in the hall is a man's walking-stick and it has got a plain silver top like Bob Jennings'. I introduced Bob to Ruth last week at a Faculty Tea and he walked home with her, before I was ready to leave. It does seem odd that he didn't send cards up to us too, doesn't it?" It was almost eleven o'clock before I heard the front door close and Ruth snapping off the lights in the living-room. Will was staying up late to-night, and I had put on a soft wrapper and curled up in the Morris-chair with a magazine. The door was slightly ajar, and as Ruth passed it on her way to bed she stopped just outside, and asked softly: "Are you both still up?" "Surely," I replied. "Come in." She came over and stood by the table where Will was working. "Can you be torn away from your precious books for a while, Will?" she asked sweetly. "Of course I can," he replied. "Because," Ruth went on, "I want to tell you something." She paused. "Yes?" encouraged Will. "Fire away." "I suppose," Ruth continued, "you two are wondering when I am going home. I've been here nearly a month now and I ought to decide what I am going to do. I'd like your advice if you're not too busy." "Certainly I'm not," Will responded heartily.