No, I did not know;" an indefinable shadow over-clouded his face, but
he said quickly,--

"That is an old hunting-ground of mine. The river teems with speckled
treasures. Are you a disciple of old Walton, Mr. Arnold?" he added,
turning with courtesy to the silent Frenchman.

"You mean fishing? No; life is too short to hang my humor of a whole day
on the end of a line. I have never been at Beacham's."

"It is a fine spot. You will probably go down there this year."

"My business keeps me tied to the city just at present. A professional
man has no such bond; his will is his master."

"Hardly, or I should have slipped cables long ago. A restful night is an
unknown indulgence sometimes for weeks."

His gaze moved from Arnold's peachy cheek, and falling upon Ruth,
surprised her dark eyes resting upon him in anxious questioning. He
smiled.

"We shall have to be moving on," she said, holding out a gloved hand.

"Will you be gone long?" he asked, pressing it cordially.

"About a month."

"You will be missed--by the Flynns. Good-by." He raised his hat as he
looked at her.

Arnold drew her arm within his, and they walked off.

They say that the first thing a Frenchman learns in studying the English
language is the use of that highly expressive outlet of emotion, "Damn."
Arnold was an old-timer, but he had not outgrown the charm of his first
linguistic victory; and now as he replaced his hat in reply to Kemp, he
distinctly though coolly said, "Damn him."

Ruth looked at him, startled; but the composed, non-committal expression
of his face led her to believe that her ears had deceived her.

A few more blocks were passed, and they stopped at a pretentious,
many-windowed, Queen Anne house. Ruth ran lightly up the steps, her
cousin following her leisurely.

She had scarcely rung the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Lewis
herself.

"Good-evening, Ruth; why, Mr. Arnold doesn't mean to say that he does us
the honor?"

Mr. Arnold had said nothing of the kind; but he offered no disclaimer,
and giving her rather a loose hand-shake, walked in.

"Come right into the dining-room," she continued. "I suppose you were
surprised to find me in the hall; I had just come from putting the
children to bed. They were in mischievous spirits and annoyed their
father, who wished to be very quiet this evening."

By this time they had reached the room at the end of the hall, the door
of which she threw open.

Jewish people, as