Young Lochinvar, don't you? You thought you had done a pretty
smooth bit of work when you sneaked Ruth away! You! You haven't enough
backbone in you even to make a bluff at working to support her. You're
just what my father said you were, a loafer who pretends to be an
artist. You've got away with it up to now, but you've shown yourself up
at last. You damned waster!'
Kirk walked to the door and flung it open.
'You're perfectly right, Bannister,' he said quietly. 'Everything you
have said is quite true. And now would you mind going?'
'I've not finished yet.'
'Yes, you have.'
Bailey hesitated. The first time frenzy had left him, and he was
beginning to be a little ashamed of himself for having expressed his
views in a manner which, though satisfying, was, he felt, less
dignified than he could have wished.
He looked at Kirk, who was standing stiffly by the door. Something in
his attitude decided Bailey to leave well alone. Such had been his
indignation that it was only now that for the first time it struck him
that his statement of opinion had not been made without considerable
bodily danger to himself. Jarred nerves had stood him in the stead of
courage; but now his nerves were soothed and he saw things clearly.
He choked down what he had intended to say and walked out. Kirk closed
the door softly behind him and began to pace the studio floor as he had
done on that night when Ruth had fought for her life in the room
upstairs.
His mind worked slowly at first. Then, as it cleared, he began to think
more and more rapidly, till the thoughts leaped and ran like tongues of
fire scorching him.
It was all true. That was what hurt. Every word that Bailey had flung
at him had been strictly just.
He had thought himself a fine, romantic fellow. He was a waster and a
loafer who pretended to be an artist. He had thrown away the little
talent he had once possessed. He had behaved shamefully to Ruth,
shirking his responsibilities and idling through life. He realized it
now, when it was too late.
Suddenly through the chaos of his reflections there shone out clearly
one coherent thought, the recollection of what Hank Jardine had offered
to him. 'If ever you are in a real tight corner......'
* * * * *
His brain cleared. He sat down calmly to wait for Ruth. His mind was
made up. Hank's offer was the way out, the only way out, and he must
take it.
BOOK TWO
The steamship Santa Barbara, of the United Fruit Line, moved
slowly through the glittering water of the bay on her way to dock. Out
at quarantine earlier in the morning there had been a mist, through
which passing ships loomed up vague and shapeless; but now the sun had
