"And I will argue my side."

Mr. Bannister waved his hand gently.

"You don't have to argue. You just listen."

Ruth bit her lip.

"Well?"

"In the first place," said her father, "about this young man. What is
he? Bailey says he is an artist. Well, what has he ever done? Why don't
I know his name? I buy a good many pictures, but I don't remember ever
signing a cheque for one of his. I read the magazines now and then, but
I can't recall seeing his signature to any of the illustrations. How
does he live, anyway, without going into the question of how he intends
to support a wife?"

"Aunt Lora told me he had private means."

"How much?"

"Five thousand dollars a year."

"Exactly the amount necessary to let him live without working. I have
him placed now. I know his type. I could show you a thousand men in
this city in exactly the same position. They don't starve and they
don't work. This young man of yours is a loafer."

"Well?"