travelling now, who had had the same hopes and fear and wonder. Once he
encountered a prosperous looking individual moving, like a liner among
tugs, in the midst of no fewer than six offspring. Kirk fixed him with
such a concentrated stare of emotion and excitement that the other was
alarmed and went on his way alertly, as one in the presence of danger.
It is probable that, if Kirk had happened to ask him the time at that
moment, or indeed addressed him at all, he would have screamed for the
police.
The mystery of childbirth and the wonder of it obsessed Kirk as time
crept on. And still more was he conscious of the horrible dread that
was gathering within him. Ruth's unvarying cheerfulness was to him
almost uncanny. None of the doubts and fears which blackened his life
appeared to touch her. Once he confided these to his friend, the little
doctor, and was thoroughly bullied by him for his foolishness. But in
spite of ridicule the fear crept back, cringingly, like a whipped dog.
And then, time moving on its leisurely but businesslike fashion, the
day arrived, and for the first time in his life Kirk knew what fear
really meant. All that he had experienced till now had, he saw, been a
mild apprehension, not worthy of a stronger name. His flesh crawled
with the thoughts which rose in his mind like black bubbles in a pond.
There were moments when the temptation to stupefy himself with drink
was almost irresistible.
It was his utter uselessness that paralysed him. He seemed destined to
be of no help to Ruth at just those crises when she needed him most.
When she was facing her father with the news of the marriage he had not
been at her side. And now, when she was fighting for her life, he could
do nothing but pace the empty, quiet studio and think.
The doctor had arrived at eight o'clock, cheery as ever, and had come
downstairs after seeing Ruth to ask him to telephone to Mrs. Porter. In
his overwrought state, this had jarred upon Kirk. Here, he felt, was
somebody who could help where he was useless.
Mrs. Porter had appeared in a cab and had had the cold brutality to ask
for a glass of sherry and a sandwich before going upstairs. She put
forward the lame excuse that she had not dined. Kirk gave her the
sherry and sandwich and resumed his patrol in a glow of indignation.
The idea of any one requiring food at this moment struck him as gross
and revolting.
His wrath did not last. In a short while fear came back into its own.
The hands of the clock pointed to ten before he stooped to following
Mrs. Porter's example. George Pennicut had been sent out, so he went
into the little kitchen, where he found eggs, which he mixed with milk
and swallowed. After this he was aware of a momentary excess of
optimism. The future looked a little brighter. But not for long.
Presently he was prowling the studio as restlessly as ever.
Men of Kirk's type are not given to deep thought. Until now he had
probably never spent more than a couple of minutes consecutively in
self-examination. This vigil forced him upon himself and caused him to
pass his character under review, with strange and unsatisfactory
results. He had never realised before what a curiously contemptible and
