‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. He went to Harvard instead. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. Perhaps in the beginning the women made fools of themselves over him. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield.
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