“Yes,” echoed Phillip vaguely, “it will warm us up.” He followed the other through the crowd, dazed, miserable, and only came to a partial recovery of his faculties when he had fallen over a suit case and sent a harmless gentleman in a clerical garb staggering to the wall. “Mamma,” asked Betty that evening, when they were alone, “what were you and Mr. Ryerson talking about so eagerly this afternoon?” “Talking about?” repeated her mother. “Oh, he was telling me about his home in Virginia, dear.” “Was that it?” asked Betty, stifling a yawn. “I didn’t know. I heard him saying something about somebody’s ankles――somebody named Ruby――and it didn’t sound quite proper.” “Ankles? Ruby?” mused Mrs. Kingsford, striving to recollect. “Oh, yes; that was his horse, Betty. He calls her Ruby. He seems very fond of horses and dogs and animals, don’t you think?” “Very,” answered Betty, her face suddenly arrayed in smiles. “But――what a funny name for a horse!” She laughed softly, and, placing her arm about her mother’s waist, gave a disconcerting hug. “Don’t you think that is a funny name for a horse, mamma?” Mrs. Kingsford suddenly understood. “Very,” she answered, smiling discreetly into her mirror. CHAPTER XXII John’s days were very full, and the estrangement with Phillip troubled him less than it would have had he had more time to give it thought. To David it seemed that John had put the matter entirely from his mind; he never mentioned Phillip any more, and David’s infrequent allusions to that youth were patently unwelcome. Yet John was not so indifferent as he appeared. Recollection of the incident at the boarding-house made his cheeks burn and his fists clench. Yet his real sentiment toward Phillip was one of irritation rather than anger. Could he have taken Phillip by the collar and shaken an explanation out of him he would have been quite satisfied and willing to clasp hands. His liking for the other remained, but was for the while drowned by the exasperation he felt.