Other Things Being Equal | Page 7

eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed. No wonder he
interests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal history as a
family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as a
social city directory."
"You have studied him to advantage. Are you sure you have not stolen
a leaf from him?"
"Dr. Kemp!" she exclaimed in pouting reproach, "do I appear as
promiscuous as that? You may call me a 'blue book,' but spare my
snobbery the opprobrious epithet of 'directory.' There goes the
fascinating young Mrs. Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils. Did
you catch the fine oratory of the glance she threw us? It said, 'Dorothy
Gwynne, how dare you appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes?
Hand him over; pass him around. I want him; you are only boring him,
though you seem to be amusing yourself."
Kemp's grave lips twitched at the corners; he was without doubt
amused.
"Aren't you improvising?" he asked. A man need only offer an
occasional bumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging,
when his companion is a woman.
"No; you evidently do not know what a feminine sneer is in words. Ah,
here comes the Queen of Sheba." She broke off with a pleased smile as
Ruth Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold.
Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together they
were doubly striking-looking. Arnold, tall and slight, carrying his head

high, fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarly
distinguished-looking man. The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasized
slightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed.
Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inches
shorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crown of
his head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes. Short women
resented this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoe to
speak to him.
There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy,
colorless face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was loosely
rolled from her forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brown
beneath delicately pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of her
face. But the languorous air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in
the sweet sympathy of her glance, and in a certain alertness about the
poise of her head.
Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne's slight signal.
"Where are you hastening?" she asked as they turned to greet her. "One
would think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you
to the beauties scattered about." She looked up pertly at Arnold, after
giving one comprehensive glance over Ruth's toilet.
"We both wished to see the orchids of which one hears," he answered,
with pronounced French accent and idiom; adding, with a slight smile,
"I did not overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other
ground that it would have been cruelty to disturb you." He spoke the
language slowly, as a stranger upon foreign ground.
"Oh, yes; I forgot. Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of
Sheba and her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?" She paused a
moment as the parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then
broke in rather breathlessly: "There, Doctor, I shall leave you with
royalty; do not let your republican ignorance forget her proper title. Mr.
Arnold, Mrs. Merrill is beckoning to us; will you come?" and with a
naive, superbly impish look at Ruth, she drew Arnold away before he
could murmur an excuse.

At the impertinent words the soft, rich blood suffused Ruth's face.
"Will you sit here awhile and wait for Mr. Arnold, or shall we go and
see the orchids?" The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusion
and calmed her self-consciousness. She raised her eyes to the dark,
clever face above her; it was a strong, rather than a handsome face.
From the broad sweep of the forehead above the steady scrutiny of the
gray eyes, to the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard,
strength and gentleness spoke in every line. His personality bore the
stamp of a letter of credit.
"Thank you," said she; "I think I shall sit here. My cousin will probably
be back soon."
The doctor seated himself beside her. Miss Gwynne's appellation was
not inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her more
conventional title.
"This is a peaceful little corner," he said. "Do you notice how removed
it seems from the rest of the room?"
"Yes," she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantly
questioning look with one of swift resolve. "Dr. Kemp, I wish to tell
you that my father has confided to me your joint secret."
"Your father?" he