answer was in the negative. On the following day, just before Bailey's
call, he accordingly sought Ruth out, and, rather nervously, for Ruth
made him feel nervous nowadays, suggested that he and she and William
Bannister should take the air in each other's company and go and feed
the squirrels in the park.
Ruth declined. It is possible that she declined somewhat curtly. The
day was close and oppressive, and she had a headache and a general
feeling of ill-will toward her species. Also, in her heart, she
considered that the scheme proposed smacked too much of Sunday
afternoon domesticity in Brooklyn. The idea of papa, mamma, and baby
sporting together in a public park offended her sense of the social
proprieties.
She did not reveal these thoughts to Kirk because she was more than a
little ashamed of them. A year ago, she knew, she would not have
objected to the idea. A year ago such an expedition would have been a
daily occurrence with her. Now she felt if William Bannister wished to
feed squirrels, Mamie was his proper companion.
She could not put all this baldly to Kirk, so she placed the burden of
her refusal on the adequate shoulders of Lora Delane Porter. Aunt Lora,
she said, would never hear of William Bannister wandering at large in
such an unhygienic fashion. Upon which Kirk, whose patience was not so
robust as it had been, and who, like Ruth, found the day oppressive and
making for irritability, had cursed Aunt Lora heartily, given it as his
opinion that between them she and Ruth were turning the child from a
human being into a sort of spineless, effeminate exhibit in a museum,
and had taken himself off to the studio muttering disjointed things.
Ruth was still quivering with the indignation of a woman who has been
cheated of the last word when Bailey appeared and announced that he
wished to speak seriously to her.
Bailey saw the hostility in her eyes and winced a little before it. He
was not feeling altogether at his ease. He had had experience of Ruth
in this mood, and she had taught him to respect it.
But he was not going to shirk his duty. He resumed:
'I am only speaking for your own good,' he said. 'I know that it
is nothing but thoughtlessness on your part, but I am naturally
anxious......'
'Bailey,' interrupted Ruth, 'get to the point.'
Bailey drew a long breath.
'Well, then,' he said, baulked of his preamble, and rushing on his
fate, 'I think you see too much of Basil Milbank.'
Ruth raised her eyebrows.
'Oh?'
The mildness of her tone deceived Bailey.
'I do not like to speak of these things,' he went on more happily; 'but
I feel that I must. It is my duty. Basil Milbank has not a good
reputation. He is not the sort of man who, ah, who, in fact, he has not
a good reputation.'
'Oh?'
'I understand that he has invited you to form one of his yacht party.'
'How did you know?'
