"The Disagreeable Woman. What do you take me for, Mees Ruth? She is too strong-minded." "Perhaps so, but I am sure she has a kind heart." "I should never be happy with her--never!" said the Professor, decidedly. "Were you ever married, Professor?" asked Ruth with sudden curiosity. "Yes, I was married when I was thirty--but my Gretchen only lived two years. I haf mourned for her more than thirty years." "You have waited a long time, Professor." "Yes; till I saw you, Mees Ruth, I never haf seen the woman I wanted to marry. Perhaps," he added with sudden hope, "this young man, Stephen, does not wish to marry you." "He will be only too glad," said Ruth, tossing her head. "He offered himself to me a year ago." "Then there is no hope for me?" "None at all, Professor." They had reached Waverley Place, and so there was no time for further conversation. As they came up the stoop Mrs. Wyman saw them through the window. She was in waiting in the hall. "Have you had a nice walk _together_?" she purred. "How I hate that woman!" said Ruth to herself. She ran up stairs and prepared for supper. CHAPTER XVI. SITS THE WIND IN THAT QUARTER. Of course I attended the Patti concert. The seat given me was in the best part of the house, and I felt somewhat bashful when I found that all my neighbors wore dress suits. My own suit--the best I had--was beginning to show the marks of wear, but I did not dare go to the expense of another. My next neighbor was an elderly gentleman, bordering upon sixty. In the twenty minutes that elapsed before the rise of the curtain we fell into a pleasant conversation. It was pleasant to find that he was becoming interested in me. "You enjoy Patti?" he said. "But then I hardly need ask that. Your presence here is sufficient evidence." "I have no doubt I shall enjoy Patti," I answered. "I have never heard her." "Indeed? How does that happen?" "Because I have been only three months in New York. I came here from the country, and of course I had no chance to hear her there." "Excuse my curiosity, but you do not look like a business man." "I am not. I am a practising physician." "Indeed!" he replied, with interest. "I wish you could cure my rheumatism." "I should like a chance to try." This was a little audacious, as probably he had his own family physician, but it came naturally upon his remark. "You shall try," he said, impulsively. "My family physician has failed to benefit me." "It may be so with me." "At any rate I will try you. Can you call at my house to-morrow at eleven o'clock?" "I will do so with pleasure." He gave me his card. I found that his name was Gregory Vincent, and that he lived in one of the finest parts of Madison Avenue. It occurred to me that he was perhaps imprudent in trusting an unknown young physician, but I was not foolish enough to tell him so. "I will call," I said with professional gravity, and I entered the name and engagement in my medical note-book.