"I have no wish to
speak to you at all. As you appear to have played a large part in this
affair, I may as well tell you that it is settled. Ruth will not marry
Mr. Winfield."
Lora Delane Porter settled herself comfortably in a chair. She drew off
her gloves and placed them on the table.
"Please ask that boy Bailey to go," she said. "He annoys me. I cannot
marshal my thoughts in his presence."
Quelled by her eye, Bailey removed himself. His father remained
standing. Ruth, who had risen at her aunt's entry, sat down again. Mrs.
Porter looked round the room with some approval.
"You have a nice taste in pictures, John," she said. "That is a Corot,
surely, above the mantelpiece?"
"Will you----"
"But about this little matter. You dislike the idea of Ruth marrying
Mr. Winfield? Have you seen Mr. Winfield?"
"I have not."
"Then how can you possibly decide whether he is a fit husband for
Ruth?"
"I know all about him."
"What do you know?"
"What Ruth has told me. That he is a loafer who pretends to be an
artist."
"He is a poor artist. I grant you that. His drawing is weak. But are
you aware that he is forty-three inches round the chest, six feet tall,
and in perfect physical condition?"
"What has that got to do with it?"
"Everything. You have not read my 'Principles of Selection'?"
"I have not.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96