them, and intuition told her in an instant what Kirk, stumbling through
his story, could not have told her in an hour. She squeezed his arm
affectionately.
'Don't tell me,' she said. 'I understand. And it doesn't matter. It
doesn't matter a bit.'
'Doesn't matter? But......'
Ruth's eyes were dancing.
'Kirk, dear, I've something to tell you. Wait till we get outside.'
'What do you mean?'
'You'll soon see?'
They went out into the street. Against the kerb a large red automobile
was standing. The chauffeur touched his cap as he saw them. Kirk stared
at him dumbly.
'In you get, dear,' said Ruth.
She met his astonished gaze with a smile of triumph. This was her
moment, the moment for which she had been waiting. The chauffeur
started the machine.
'I don't understand. Whose car is this?'
'Mine. Yours. Ours. Oh, Kirk, darling, I was so afraid that you would
come back bulging with a fortune that would make my little one look
like nothing. But you haven't, you haven't, and it's just splendid.'
She caught his hand and pressed it. 'It's simply sweet of you to look
so astonished. I was hoping you would. This car belongs to us, and
there's another just as big besides, and a house, and, oh, everything
you can think of. Kirk, dear, we've nothing to worry us any longer.
We're rich!'
Kirk blinked. He closed his eyes and opened them again. The automobile
was still there, and he was still in it. Ruth was still gazing at him
with the triumphant look in her eyes. The chauffeur, silent emblem of a
substantial bank-balance, still sat stiffly at the steering-wheel.
'Rich?' Kirk repeated.
'Rich,' Ruth assured him.
'I don't understand.'
Ruth's smile faded.
'Poor father......'
'Your father?'
'He died just after you sailed. Just before Bill got ill.' She gave a
little sigh. 'Kirk, how odd life is!'
'But......-'
'It was terrible. It was some kind of a stroke. He had been working too
hard and taking no exercise. You know when he sent Steve away that time
he didn't engage anybody else in his place. He went back to his old way
of living, which the doctor had warned him against. He worked and
worked, until one day, Bailey says, he fainted at the office. They
brought him home, and he just went out like a burned-out candle. I, I
went to him, but for a long time he wouldn't see me.
'Oh, Kirk, the hours I spent in the library hoping that he would let me
come to him! But he never did till right at the end. Then I went up,
and he was dying. He couldn't speak. I don't know now how he felt
