"Of course you will tell Jim what you think and what Frank says, and poor Jim will be nearly crazy. Because he is sure to believe you as long as he has always been in love with you. But Jim has more charity and sympathy and will want me to be happy and--" Jack could not go on.
Ruth was by this time shedding tears herself, so that the atmosphere of the room with the rain pouring down outside was distinctly dismal.
"Don't we want you to be happy too, Jack? You must believe that; but I suppose you consider we are unjustly prejudiced. Still, dear, won't you promise me at least not to see Captain Madden again until we have heard from Jim?" Ruth implored.
There was no immediate answer, and for this much the older woman was distinctly thankful. If Jacqueline Ralston would only once give her word there would be no going back upon it.
"Yes, Ruth, I promise," she replied after a little while.
The next moment Ruth had led her to a chair and after Jack had seated herself, she rested on the arm for a moment, pressing her cheek against the girl's golden-brown hair. For although Ruth was a good many years the older, Jack was now several inches taller than her chaperon.
"Are you so sure Captain Madden does mean your happiness?" Ruth whispered, and then held her breath, so fearful did she feel of the answer.
For the second time Jack hesitated. "Yes, I _think_ so; that is, Captain Madden says he will spend his life trying to make me happy. But, oh Ruthie, please don't let's talk about anything more that is serious just now. It seems to me that everybody has been scolding me all afternoon and I'm tired." This was spoken so like a fretful child that actually Ruth was able to summon a smile.
Before her reply, however, Frieda came strolling in, carrying a box of chocolate drops and thoughtfully biting one in two.
She extended her refreshments to her sister and chaperon. "Dick Grant has just brought me these; they are American, and I _am_ grateful to him," she remarked pensively. "That foolish Mrs. Grant told me that the candy business was such a be-au-ti-ful business and I laughed at her. Now I am beginning to think so too. I am so homesick for most anything that is American. Isn't Rome dismal today? Ruth took Olive and me to another old picture gallery and just as we were trying to take an interest in things, suddenly she decided that we had to rush back to the hotel. Don't you think we have had enough of Rome? Jean says she is tired and I am, and Ruth and Olive say they are a little bit. Besides, if we are to see enough of Europe to count, this summer, ought we not to be starting out again?"