Andover told him that little Ruth had been taken to her home a month
ago--and Pete wondered how she could still miss him, as Miss Gray had
intimated in her last letter. And as he wondered he saw light--not a
great light, but a faint ray which was reflected in his face as he
asked Andover when Miss Gray would be relieved from duty, and if it
would be possible to see her then.
Andover thought it might be possible, and suggested that he let Miss
Gray know of Pete's presence; but some happy instinct caused Pete to
veto that suggestion.
"It ain't important," he told Andover. "I'll jest mosey around about
six, and step in for a minute. Don't you say I'm in town!"
Andover gazed curiously after Pete as the latter marched out. The
surgeon shook his head. Mixed drinks were not new to Andover, but he
could not for the life of him recognize what Pete had been drinking.
Doris, who had not been thinking of Pete at all,--as she was not a
spiritualist, and had always doubted that affinities were other than
easy excuses for uneasy morals,--came briskly down the hospital steps,
gowned in a trim gray skirt and a jacket, and a jaunty turban that hid
just enough of her brown hair to make that which was visible the more
alluring.
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