Trouble was
making her hard; life could offer her little that would find her unequal to
the test. Down the broad, deserted avenue, with its dark, imposing
mansions, she hurried as if she were alone in the havocking elements. The
rain beat her and lashed her in the face; she faced it unflinchingly as a
small part of her trials. Without a tremor she ran up Dr. Kemp's steps.
It was only when she stood with her finger on the bell-button that she
realized whom she was about to encounter. Then for the first time she gave
one long sob of self-recollection, and pushed the button.
Burke almost immediately opened the door. Ruth had no intention of
entering; it would be sufficient to leave her message and hurry home.
"Who's there?" asked Burke, peering out into the darkness. "It's a divil
of a night for any one but--"
"Is Dr. Kemp in?" The sweet woman-voice so startled him that he opened the
door wide.
"Come in, mum," he said apologetically; "come in out of the night."
"No. Is the doctor in?"
"I don't know," he grumbled, "and I can't stand here with the door open."
"Close it, then, but see if he is in, please."
"I'll lave it open, and ye can come in or stay out according if ye are
dry-humored or wet-soled;" and he shuffled off.
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