It will be remembered, that in the last volume of the "Ranch Girls At Home Again," Professor Russell is introduced to the Ranch girls by Ralph Merritt, who told them of the Professor's intense dislike for girls. At first he appeared to regard Frieda only as a child and therefore made an exception of her. Then, later, after his accident at Rainbow Mine when his leg was broken and Frieda undertook to keep him amused, an amazing friendship developed between them which finally resulted in their marriage. In replying to his question Jack found herself answering as reassuringly as if Frieda really had been a runaway child, since this seemed to be the spirit in which her husband thought of her. "She will see me?" he asked eagerly. But when Jack shook her head he did not appear surprised, being evidently accustomed to Frieda's vagaries. Moreover, Lord Kent then came into the room. Afterwards, Professor Russell related his side of the difficulty between himself and his wife. His story did not after all differ so much from Frieda's account, for he put the blame upon himself, as she had done. "I was too old for her; we ought never to have married. The fault was all mine," he ended so despondently, that Jack felt as if she could not accept the very conclusion she had reached the day before. Professor Russell could not be persuaded to remain long--not even for tea. It was agreed, however, that he would spend the next few weeks in London and that later they might reach some decision. In the meantime Jack promised to do her best to persuade her sister to have at least one interview with her husband. Lord Kent followed his brother-in-law to the door. "Frieda is a spoiled baby; you have simply been too good to her. Some day she will wake up and find this out for herself," he declared. But Professor Russell only shook his head sadly and departed. Even after learning of her husband's departure Frieda still refused to join her family. What she was thinking about alone in her own apartment no one knew, since she asked that no one disturb her. However, at half past five, realizing that her husband then must be safely on his way back to London, Frieda decided that she could endure her own rooms no longer. Without a word to anyone, she put on a long, light weight blue coat and a small, close fitting, blue turban and passing down through the long halls and through a side entrance vanished into the outdoors. It was Frieda's plan merely to walk about in the gardens until she could persuade herself into a calmer frame of mind. She was sure, of course, that she cared nothing for her husband and yet all afternoon she had found herself wondering if he were not worn out by his journey. Ordinarily he was not a good traveler and he must also have suffered through being compelled to desert his summer classes at the University in order to seek her.