The next morning when Will and I motored home we were alone. We approached the steeples of our town about noontime. I remember whistles were blowing and bells ringing as we passed through the Square. We saw Robert Jennings coming out of one of the University buildings on his way home from a late morning recitation. We slowed down beside him, and Will sang out to him to pile in behind; which he did, leaning forward and chatting volubly with Will and me for the next ten minutes about a new starter device for an automobile. When Will stopped in front of our walk, Robert hopped out of his back seat and opened the door for me. It was when Will had motored out of hearing that Robert turned sharply to me and asked, "Did you leave her in Hilton?" "No, Bob, Ruth isn't in Hilton. She's gone to New York," I told him gently. "Whom is she staying with in New York? Your brother?" he asked. "No, not Malcolm. No. But she's all right." "What do you mean--'she's all right'?" "Oh, I mean she has money enough--and all that." "She isn't _alone_ in New York!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to say----" "Now, Bob, don't _you_ go and get excited about it. Ruth's all right. I'm just about worn out persuading my brother Tom that it is perfectly all right for Ruth to go to New York for a little while if she wants to. I can't begin arguing with you, the minute I get home. I'm all worn out on the subject." "But what is she doing down there? Whom is she visiting? Who is looking out for her? Who went with her? Who met her?" "Nobody, nobody. Nobody met her; nobody went with her; she isn't visiting anybody. Good heavens, Bob, you'd make a helpless, simpering little idiot out of Ruth if you had your way. She isn't a child. She isn't an inexperienced young girl. She's capable of keeping out of silly difficulties. She can be trusted. Let her use her judgment and good sense a little. It won't hurt her a bit. It will do her good. Don't you worry about Ruth. She's all right." "But a girl--a pretty young girl like Ruth--you don't mean to say that Ruth--Ruth----" "Yes, I do, too, Bob! And there are lots of girls just as pretty as Ruth in New York, and just as young, tapping away at typewriters, and balancing accounts in offices, and running shops of their own, too, in perfect safety. You're behind the times, Bob. I don't want to be horrid, but really I'm tired, and if you stay here and talk to me, I warn you I'm going to be cross." We were in the house now. Bob had followed me in. I was taking off my things. He stared at me as I proceeded. "I didn't see any sense at all in your breaking off your engagement," I went on. "You both cared for each other. I should have thought----" "It was inevitable," cut in Bob gravely. "It was inevitable, Lucy." "Well, then, if it was, Bob, all right. I won't say another word about it. But now that Ruth is nothing to you----" "Nothing to me!" he exclaimed.