Ruth returned from school to find Gloria not yet home and the drawing-room empty, except perhaps for Billie Irwin and Ben Stark, a tall, good-natured youth, who had followed hard upon his letter and who was perpetually asking Ruth to go to theatres with him, where he had “professional courtesy” due to having worked on Broadway the season before. If Ruth refused, as she sometimes did, he cheerfully turned his invitation to Billie Irwin, seemingly as pleased with her society as with that of the younger woman. It troubled Ruth to think of them all, herself and Miss Irwin and Ben Stark, all living here as if Gloria had unlimited wealth, while Gloria went out every morning to uncongenial work to keep up with the expenses of her too large ménage. Only that morning Amy had complained to her of having so many breakfasts to prepare for people who rose whenever they pleased and never remembered to make her any presents. If only George would grow dissatisfied—but he never seemed weary of serving Gloria’s impecunious guests, and if he was still engaged in midnight orgies of enchantment Ruth could not know. She dared not repeat the keyhole experiment. She wished that she had not taken Amy upstairs to sleep; then she would have had a spy below stairs. It was foolish of her to connect Professor Pendragon’s illness with George, but she could not help it. If she could only have some other opinion to go by—or perhaps when she had seen Professor Pendragon again, her illusion would be dispelled. Nels Zord had talked with him over the telephone and Professor Pendragon had made light of his illness and said he would be glad to have Nels and the two girls come and have tea with him the following Thursday. He said he was not going to a hospital and hoped to be quite well when they came. If he was well then Ruth could laugh at her superstitious fears. Thursday was a good day for all of them because there was no lecture Thursday afternoon and they could all leave the Art Students’ League at half-past four and go together to Professor Pendragon’s hotel. The idea of visiting a man in his hotel, even a man of forty who was ill, and in company with two other people did not seem quite proper to Ruth, but she did not say anything about it, having acquired the habit of taking customs and conventions as she found them. Nevertheless she was quite relieved to find that Professor Pendragon had a suite and that they were ushered into a pleasant room with no hint either of sickness or sleep in it. She even took time to wonder where the prejudice against sleeping rooms as places of ordinary social intercourse first originated. Professor Pendragon met them, leaning on a crutch, one foot lifted in the attitude of a delightful, old stork. “It’s really kind of you to come,” he said, after he had made them all comfortable. “You know I have hundreds of acquaintances but very few friends, as I have discovered since I became a victim of the evil eye.”