'Then you will miss a great deal of valuable information,' said Mrs.
Porter tranquilly.
There was a pause. John Bannister glared furiously at Mrs. Porter, but
her gaze was moving easily about the room, taking in each picture in
turn in a leisurely inspection.
An exclamation from Ruth broke the silence, a sharp cry like that of an
animal in pain. She sprang up, her face working, her eyes filled with
tears.
'I can't stand it!' she cried. 'I can't stand it any longer! Father,
Kirk and I were married this afternoon.'
Mrs. Porter went quickly to her and put her arm round her. Ruth was
sobbing helplessly. The strain had broken her. John Bannister's face
was leaden. The veins stood out on his forehead. His mouth twisted
dumbly.
Mrs. Porter led Ruth gently to the door and pushed her out. Then she
closed it and turned to him.
'So now you know, John,' she said. 'Well, what are you going to do
about it?'
Self-control was second nature with John Bannister. For years he had
cultivated it as a commercial asset. Often a fortune had depended on
his mastery of his emotions. Now, in an instant, he had himself under
control once more. His face resumed its normal expression of cold
impassiveness. Only his mouth twitched a little.
'Well?' asked Mrs. Porter.
'Take her away,' he said quietly. 'Take her out of here. Let her go to
him. I have done with her.'
'I suppose so,' said Mrs. Porter, and left the room.
Some months after John Bannister had spoken his ultimatum in the
library two drought-stricken men met on the Rialto. It was a close June
evening, full of thirst.
'I could do with a drink,' said the first man. 'Several.'
'My tongue is black clear down to the roots,' said the second.
'Let's go up to Kirk Winfield's,' proposed the first man, inspired.
'Not for me,' said the other briefly. 'Haven't you heard about Kirk?
He's married!'
'I know, but......'
'And when I say married, I mean married. She's old John
Bannister's daughter, you know, and I guess she inherits her father's
character. She's what I call a determined girl. She seems to have made
up her mind that the old crowd that used to trail around the studio
aren't needed any longer, and they've been hitting the sidewalk on one
ear ever since the honeymoon.
'If you want to see her in action, go up there now. She'll be perfectly
sweet and friendly, but somehow you'll get the notion that you don't
want to go there again, and that she can bear up if you don't. It's
something in her manner. I guess it's a trick these society girls
learn. You've seen a bouncer handling a souse. He doesn't rough-house
