'If you want to use the shower, Steve,' he said, 'you'd better get up
there now. I shan't be ready yet awhile. Then, if this is one of your
energetic mornings and you would care to give me a rub-down......'
'Sure,' said Steve obligingly. He picked up his clothes and went
upstairs to the bathroom, which, like the bedrooms, opened on to the
gallery. Kirk threw himself on the couch, fixed his eyes on the
ceiling, and began to think of Ruth.
'Mr. Bannister,' announced George Pennicut at the door.
Kirk was on his feet in one bound. The difference, to a man whose mind
is far away, between 'Mr. Bannister' and 'Miss Bannister' is not great,
and his first impression was that it was Ruth who had arrived.
He was acutely conscious of his costume, and was quite relieved when he
saw, not Ruth, but a severe-looking young man, who advanced upon him in
a tight-lipped, pop-eyed manner that suggested dislike and hostility.
The visitor was a complete stranger to him, but, his wandering wits
returning to their duties, he deduced that this must be one of Ruth's
relatives.
It is a curious fact that the possibility of Ruth having other
relatives than Mrs. Porter had not occurred to him till now. She
herself filled his mind to such an extent that he had never speculated
on any possible family that might be attached to her. To him Ruth was
Ruth. He accepted the fact that she was Mrs. Porter's niece. That she
might also be somebody's daughter or sister had not struck him. The
look on Bailey's face somehow brought it home to him that the world was
about to step in and complicate the idyllic simplicity of his wooing.
Bailey, meanwhile, as Kirk's hundred and eighty pounds of bone and
muscle detached themselves from the couch and loomed up massively
before him, was conscious of a weakening of his determination to
inflict bodily chastisement. The truth of Steve's remark, that it made
a difference whether one's intended victim is a heavyweight, a middle,
or a welter, came upon him with some force.
Kirk, in a sleeveless vest that showed up his chest and shoulders was
not an inviting spectacle for a man intending assault and battery.
Bailey decided to confine himself to words. There was nothing to be
gained by a vulgar brawl. A dignified man of the world avoided
violence.
'Mr. Winfield?'
'Mr. Bannister?'
It was at this point that Steve, having bathed and dressed, came out on
the gallery. The voices below halted him, and the sound of Bailey's
decided him to remain where he was. Steve was not above human
curiosity, and he was anxious to know the reason for Bailey's sudden
appearance.
'That is my name. It is familiar to you. My sister,' said Bailey
bitterly, 'has made it so.'
'Won't you sit down?' said Kirk.
'No, thank you. I will not detain you long, Mr. Winfield.'
'My dear fellow! There's no hurry. Will you have a cigarette?'
'No, thank you.'
