“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 John Bannister’s daughter, you know, and I guess she inherits her father’s character. She’s what I call a determined girl. She seems to have made up her mind that the old crowd that used to trail around the studio aren’t needed any longer, and they’ve been hitting the sidewalk on one ear ever since the honeymoon.
“If you want to see her in action, go up there now. She’ll be perfectly sweet and friendly, but somehow you’ll get the notion that you don’t want to go there again, and that she can bear up if you don’t. It’s something in her manner. I guess it’s a trick these society girls learn. You’ve seen a bouncer handling a souse. He doesn’t rough-house him. He just puts his arm round his waist and kind of suggests he should 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 to go, and, when you do go, shuts the door on you so quick you have to jump to keep from getting your coat caught in it. I tell you, those two are about all the company either of them needs. They’ve got the Newly-weds licked to a whisper.”
“It’s always the best fellows that get it the worse,” said the other philosophically, “and it’s always the fellows you think are safe too. I could have bet on Kirk. Six months ago I’d have given you any odds you wanted 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, were accurate. Marriage had undeniably wrought changes in Kirk Winfield. It had 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 a whole-hearted bachelor, and he was assuredly a much-married man. For the first six months Ruth was almost literally his whole world. His friends, the old brigade of the studio, had dropped away from him in a body. 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.