Miss Felicia safely landed on the dry and comparatively clean
sidewalk, Peter put the question he had been framing in his mind
since he first caught sight of that lady picking her way among the
puddles.
"Well, how is he now?"
"His head, or his heart?" she asked with a knowing smile, dropping
her still spotless skirts. "Both are broken; the last into
smithereens. It is hopeless. He will never be any better. Oh,
Peter, what a mess you have made of things!"
"What have I done?" he laughed.
"Got these two people dead in love with each other,--both of them
--Ruth is just as bad--and no more chance of their ever being
married than you or I. Perfectly silly, Peter, and I have always
told you so--and now you will have to take the consequences."
"Beautiful--beautiful!" chuckled Peter; "everything is coming my
way. I was sure of Jack, for he told me so, but Ruth puzzled me.
Did she tell you she loved him?"
"No, stupid, of course she did not. But have I not a pair of eyes
in my head? What do you suppose I got up for this morning at such
an unearthly hour and went over to--Oh, such an awful place!--to
see that idiot? Just to tell him I was sorry? Not a bit of it! I
went to find out what was going on, and now I know; and what is to
become of it all nobody can tell.
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