He wondered more and more what weird
principle of selection had been at work to bring Bailey and this
butterfly together. He had never given any deep thought to the study of
his brother-in-law's character; but, from his small knowledge of him,
he would have imagined some one a trifle more substantial and serious
as the ideal wife for him. Life, he conceived, was to Bailey a stately
march. Sybil Wilbur evidently looked on it as a mad gallop.
Ruth felt the same. She was fond of Sybil, but she could not see her as
the fore-ordained Mrs. Bailey.
"I suppose she swept him off his feet," she said. "It just shows that
you never really get to know a person even if you're their sister.
Bailey must have all sorts of hidden sides to his character which I
never noticed--unless _she_ has. But I don't think there is much
of that about Sybil. She's just a child. But she's very amusing, isn't
she? She enjoys life so furiously."
"I think Bailey will find her rather a handful. Does she ever sit
still, by the way? If she is going to act right along as she did to-day
this portrait will look like that cubist picture of the 'Dance at the
Spring'."
As the sittings went on Miss Wilbur consented gradually to simmer down
and the portrait progressed with a fair amount of speed. But Kirk was
conscious every day of a growing sensation of panic.
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