'Bailey,' she said, 'wake up. Either get to the point or go or read a
book or do some tatting or talk about something else. You know
perfectly well that I absolutely refuse to endure your impressive
manner. I believe when people ask you the time you look pained and
important and make a mystery of it. What's troubling you? I should have
thought Clarence would have kept quiet about insulting me. But
apparently he has no sense of shame.'
Bailey gaped. Bailey was shocked and alarmed.
'Insulting you! What do you mean? Clarence is a gentleman. He is
incapable of insulting a woman.'
'Is he? He told me I was a suitable wife for a wretched dwarf with the
miserably inadequate intelligence which nature gave him reduced to
practically a minus quantity by alcohol! At least, he implied it. He
asked me to marry him.'
'I have just left him at the club. He is very upset.'
'I should imagine so.' A soft smile played over Ruth's face. 'I spoke
to Clarence. I explained things to him. I lit up Clarence's little mind
like a searchlight.'
Bailey rose, tremulous with just wrath.
'You spoke to him in a way that I can only call outrageous and
improper, and, er, outrageous.'
He paced the room with agitated strides. Ruth watched him calmly.
'If the overflowing emotion of a giant soul in torment makes you knock
over a table or smash a chair,' she said, 'I shall send the bill for
repairs to you. You had far better sit down and talk quietly. What
is worrying you, Bailey?'
'Is it nothing,' demanded her brother, 'that my sister should have
spoken to a man as you spoke to Clarence Grayling?'
With an impassioned gesture he sent a flower-vase crashing to the
floor.
'I told you so,' said Ruth. 'Pick up the bits, and don't let the water
spoil the carpet. Use your handkerchief. I should say that that would
cost you about six dollars, dear. Why will you let yourself be so
temperamental? Now let me try and think what it was I said to Clarence.
As far as I can remember it was the mere A B C of eugenics.'
Bailey, on his knees, picking up broken glass, raised a flushed and
accusing face.
'Ah! Eugenics! You admit it!'
'I think,' went on Ruth placidly, 'I asked him what sort of children he
thought we were likely to have if we married.'
'A nice girl ought not to think about such things.'
'I don't think about anything else much. A woman can't do a great deal,
even nowadays, but she can have a conscience and feel that she owes
something to the future of the race. She can feel that it is her duty
to bring fine children into the world. As Aunt Lora says, she can carry
the torch and not falter.'
Bailey shied like a startled horse at the hated phrase. He pointed
furiously at the photograph of the great thinker.
'You're talking like that, that damned woman!'
'Bailey precious! You mustn't use such wicked, wicked words.'
