CHAPTER IX.
But Jack stayed on.
This was the atmosphere he had longed for.

This, too, was where Peter lived.

Here were the chairs he sat in, the books he read, the pictures he enjoyed.

And the well-dressed, well-bred people, the hum of low voices, the clusters of roses, the shaded candles, their soft rosy light falling on the egg-shell cups and saucers and silver service, and the lovely girl dispensing all this hospitality and cheer! Yes, here he could live, breathe, enjoy life.

Everything was worth while and just as he had expected to find it.
When the throng grew thick about her table he left Ruth's side, taking the opportunity to speak to Peter or Miss Felicia (he knew few others), but he was back again whenever the chance offered.
"Don't send me away again," he pleaded when he came back for the twentieth time, and with so much meaning in his voice that she looked at him with wide-open eyes.