So Ruth hurried downtown much as usual upon that cold morning; and she felt only a little more conscious contempt for Sam Hilton--and for herself--as she sat beside him from eight until after nine, with her great coat on and with her hands pulled up in her sleeves to keep them warm while he schemed and reschemed to make a certain feature of his deal with the patriotic Cady more favorable to himself. He had tossed the morning paper upon his desk in front of him with the columns folded up which displayed Gerry Hull’s picture in his uniform and which told about Gerry Hull’s arriving that morning and about his service in France. Thus Ruth knew that Sam Hilton had been reading about Lieutenant Hull also; and, indeed, Hilton referred to him when he had made the last correction upon the contract and was in good humor and ready to put business aside for a few minutes and be personal. “Gerry Hull’s come home today from France, I see. Some fighter, that boy!” he exclaimed with admiration. “Ain’t he?” Ruth gazed at Hilton with wonder. She could have understood a man like Sam Hilton if he refused to read at all about Gerry Hull; or she could have understood if, reading, Sam Hilton denied admiration. But how could a young man know about Lieutenant Hull and admire him and feel no personal reproach at himself staying safe and satisfied and out of “it”? “Some flier!” he was going on with his enthusiastic praise. “How many Huns has he got--fourteen?” Ruth knew the exact number; but she did not tell him. “Lieutenant Hull is here under orders and upon special duty,” she said. “They sent him home or he wouldn’t be away from the front now.” The blood warmed in her face as she delivered this rebuke gently to Sam Hilton. He stared at her and the color deepened, staining her clear, delicate temples and forehead. “They had to send him here to stir us up.” “What’s the matter with us?” Sam Hilton questioned with honest lack of concern. Her way of mentioning Gerry Hull had not hit him at all; and he was not seeking any answer to his question. He was watching Ruth flush and thinking that she was mighty pretty with as much color as she had now. He liked her in that coat, too; for the collar of dark fur, though not of good quality, made her youthful face even more “high class” looking than usual. Sam Hilton spent a great deal of money on his own clothes without ever achieving the coveted “class” in his appearance; while this girl, who worked for him and who had only one outfit that he ever saw, always looked right. She came of good people, he knew--little town people and not rich, since she had to work and send money home; but they were “refined.”