'Yes, I heard that it was she who set the whole thing going. She is a
friend of this fellow-what is his name?'
'Kirk Winfield. Yes, she seemed to know him quite well.'
'And then?'
In spite of her anxiety, Ruth smiled.
'Well, that's all,' she said. 'I just fell in love with him.'
Mr. Bannister nodded.
'You just fell in love with him,' he repeated. 'Pretty quick work,
wasn't it?'
'I suppose it was.'
'You just took one look at him and saw he was the affinity, eh?'
'I suppose so.'
'And what did he do? Was he equally sudden?'
Ruth laughed. She was feeling quite happy now.
'He would have liked to be, poor dear, but he felt he had to be
cautious and prepare the way before telling me. If it hadn't been for
Bailey, he might be doing it still. Apparently, Bailey went to him and
said I had said I was going to marry him, and Kirk came flying round,
and...well, then it was all right.'
Mr. Bannister drew thoughtfully at his cigar. He was silent for a few
moments.
'Well, my dear,' he said at last. 'I think you had better consider the
engagement broken off.'
Ruth looked at him quickly. He still smiled, but his eyes were cold and
hard. She realized suddenly that she had been played with, that all his
kindliness and amiability had been merely a substitute for the storm
which she had expected. After all, it was to be war between them, and
she braced herself for it!
'Father!' she cried.
Mr. Bannister continued to puff serenely at his cigar.
'We needn't get worked up about it,' he said. 'Let's keep right on
talking it over quietly.'
'Very well,' said Ruth. 'But, after what you have just said, what is
there to talk over?'
'You might be interested to hear my reasons for saying it.'
'And I will argue my side.'
Mr. Bannister waved his hand gently.
'You don't have to argue. You just listen.'
Ruth bit her lip.
'Well?'
'In the first place,' said her father, 'about this young man. What is
he? Bailey says he is an artist. Well, what has he ever done? Why don't
I know his name? I buy a good many pictures, but I don't remember ever
signing a cheque for one of his. I read the magazines now and then, but
I can't recall seeing his signature to any of the illustrations. How
does he live, anyway, without going into the question of how he intends
to support a wife?'
'Aunt Lora told me he had private means.'
'How much?'
