They had visited the studio once or twice at first, but after
that had mysteriously disappeared. He was too engrossed in his
happiness to speculate on the reasons for this defection: he only knew
that he was glad of it.
Their visits had not been a success.
Conversation had flowed fitfully. Some sixth sense told him that Ruth,
though charming to them all, had not liked them; and he himself was
astonished to find what bull dogs they really were. It was odd how out
of sympathy he felt with them. They seemed so unnecessary: yet what a
large part of his life they had once made up!
Something had come between him and them. What it was he did not know.
Ruth could have told him. She was the angel with the flaming sword who
guarded their paradise. Marriage was causing her to make unexpected
discoveries with regard to herself. Before she had always looked on
herself as a rather unusually reasonable, and certainly not a jealous,
woman. But now she was filled with an active dislike for these quite
harmless young men who came to try and share Kirk with her.
She knew it was utterly illogical. A man must have friends. Life could
not be forever a hermitage of two. She tried to analyse her objection
to these men, and came to the conclusion that it was the fact that they
had known Kirk before she did that caused it.
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