These were unpleasant thoughts, and in his hour of clear
vision he knew whence they came. They were entirely due to the
knowledge that, instead of sitting comfortably at home, he would be
compelled in a few short hours to go out and get dinner at some
restaurant. To such a pass had he come in the twenty-sixth year of his
life.
Once the gods have marked a bachelor down, they give him few chances of
escape. It was when Kirk's mood was at its blackest, and the figure of
the abstract wife had ceased to be a menace and become a shining angel
of salvation, that Lora Delane Porter, with Ruth Bannister at her side,
rang the studio bell.
Kirk went to the door. He hoped it was a tradesman; he feared it was a
friend. In his present state of mind he had no use for friends. When he
found himself confronting Mrs. Porter he became momentarily incapable
of speech. It had not entered his mind that she would pay him a second
visit. Possibly it was joy that rendered him dumb.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Winfield," said Mrs. Porter. "I have come to
inquire after the man Pennicut. Ruth, this is Mr. Winfield. Mr.
Winfield, my niece, Miss Bannister."
And Kirk perceived for the first time that his visitor was not alone.
In the shadow behind her a girl was standing. He stood aside to let
Mrs. Porter pass, and Ruth came into the light.
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