Mr. Bannister sighed.

"I thought you were fond of me, Ruth," he said wistfully. It was the
wrestler yielding instead of resisting. Ruth's hard composure melted
instantly. She flung her arms round his neck in a burst of remorseful
affection.

"Of course I am, father dear. You're making this awfully hard for me."

Mr. Bannister chuckled inwardly. It seemed to him that victory was in
sight. He always won, he told himself, always.

"I only want you to be sensible."

Ruth stiffened at the word. It jarred upon her. She felt that they were
leagues apart, that they could never be in sympathy with each other.

"Father," she said.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to see Kirk?"

"I have been wondering when he was going to appear on the scene. I
always thought it was customary on these occasions for the young man to
present himself in person, and not let the lady fight his battles for
him. Is this Mr. Winfield a little deficient in nerve?"

Ruth flushed angrily.