Receiving no answer to her knock, she repeated it somewhat more loudly. At this a tired voice called, "Come in."
She turned the knob, which yielded to her touch, and found herself in a small, well-lighted, and neat room. Seated in an armchair near the window, but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared to be a golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and a childish hand supported the flower-like head. As Ruth hesitated after closing the door behind her, she found a pair of listless violet eyes regarding her from a small white face.
"Well?" queried the girl, without changing her position except to allow her gaze to travel to the floor.
"You are Miss Rose Delano?" said Ruth, as she came a step nearer.
"What of that?" Asked the girl, lifelessly, her dull eyes wandering everywhere but to the face of her strange interlocutor.
"I am Ruth Levice, a friend of Dr. Kemp. Will that introduction be enough to make you shake hands with me?"
She advanced toward her, holding out her hand. A burning flame shot across Rose Delano's face, and she shrank farther back among her pillows.
"No," she said, putting up a repellent hand; "it is not enough. Do not touch me, or you will regret it. You must not, I say." She arose quickly from her chair and stood at bay, regarding Ruth. The latter, taller than she by head and shoulders, looked down at her smiling.
"I know no reason why I must not," she replied gently.
"You do not know me."
"No; but I know of you."
"Then why did you come; why don't you go?" The blue eyes looked with passionate resentment at her.
"Because I have come to see you; because I wish to shake hands with you."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Why do you wish to do that?"
"Because I wish to be your friend. May we not be friends? I am not much older than you, I think."
"You are centuries younger. Who sent you here? Dr. Kemp?"
"No one sent me; I came of my own free will."
"Then go as you came."
"No."
She stood gracefully and quietly before her. Rose Delano moved farther from her, as if to escape her grave brown eyes.
"You do not know what you are doing," cried the girl, excitedly; "have you no father or mother, no one to tell you what a girl should not do?"
"I have both; but I have also a friend, --Dr. Kemp."
"He is my friend too," affirmed Rose, tremulously.
"Then we have one good thing in common; and since he is my friend and yours, why should we not be friends?"
"Because he is a man, and you are a woman. He has then told you my story?"
"Yes."
"And you feel yourself unharmed in coming here--to such a creature as I?"
"I feel nothing but pity for you; I do not blame you. But, oh, little one, I do so grieve for you because you won't believe that the world is not all merciless. Come, give me your hand."
"No," she said, clasping her hands behind her and retreating as the other advanced; "go away, please. You are very good, but you are very foolish.
Bad as I am, however, I shall not let you harm yourself more; leave my room, please."
"Not till I have held your hands in mine."
"Stop! I tell you I don't want you to come here; I don't want your friendship. Can't you go now, or are you afraid that your sweetheart will upbraid you if you fail to carry out his will?"
"My sweetheart?" she asked in questioning wonder.
"Yes; only a lover could make a girl like you so forget herself. I speak of Dr. Kemp."
"But he is not my lover," she stated, still speaking gently, but with a pale face turned to her companion.
