Some months after John Bannister had spoken his ultimatum in thelibrary two drought-stricken men met on the Rialto. It was a close Juneevening, full of thirst.

　　"I could do with a drink," said the first man. "Several.""My tongue is black clear down to the roots," said the second.

　　"Let's go up to Kirk Winfield's," proposed the first man, inspired.

　　"Not for me," said the other briefly. "Haven't you heard about Kirk?

　　He's married!""I know--but----""And when I say married, I mean _married_. She's old JohnBannister's daughter, you know, and I guess she inherits her father'scharacter. She's what I call a determined girl. She seems to have madeup her mind that the old crowd that used to trail around the studioaren't needed any longer, and they've been hitting the sidewalk on oneear ever since the honeymoon.

　　"If you want to see her in action, go up there now. She'll be perfectlysweet and friendly, but somehow you'll get the notion that you don'twant to go there again, and that she can bear up if you don't. It'ssomething in her manner. I guess it's a trick these society girlslearn. You've seen a bouncer handling a souse. He doesn't rough-househim. He just puts his arm round his waist and kind of suggests heshould leave the place. Well, it's like that.""But doesn't Kirk kick? He used to like having us around."His friend laughed.

　　"Kick? Kirk? You should see him! He just sits there waiting for you togo, and, when you do go, shuts the door on you so quick you have tojump to keep from getting your coat caught in it. I tell you, those twoare about all the company either of them needs. They've got theNewly-weds licked to a whisper.""It's always the best fellows that get it the worse," said the otherphilosophically, "and it's always the fellows you think are safe too. Icould have bet on Kirk. Six months ago I'd have given you any odds youwanted that he would never marry.""And I wouldn't have taken you. It's always the way."The criticisms of the two thirsty men, though prejudiced, wereaccurate. Marriage had undeniably wrought changes in Kirk Winfield. Ithad blown up, decentralized, and re-arranged his entire scheme of life.

　　Kirk's was one of those natures that run to extremes. He had been awhole-hearted bachelor, and he was assuredly a much-married man. Forthe first six months Ruth was almost literally his whole world. Hisfriends, the old brigade of the studio, had dropped away from him in abody. They had visited the studio once or twice at first, but afterthat had mysteriously disappeared. He was too engrossed in hishappiness to speculate on the reasons for this defection: he only knewthat 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 wasastonished to find what bull dogs they really were. It was odd how outof sympathy he felt with them. They seemed so unnecessary: yet what alarge part of his life they had once made up!