Part 13 (1/2)
”You mean?”
”Why, when old man Bannister says: 'Nix! You shall never marry my child!' come back at him by saying: 'Thanks very much, but I've just done it!'”
”Good heavens, Steve!”
”You'll never win out else. You don't know old man Bannister. I do.”
”But----”
The door-bell rang.
”Who on earth's that?” said Kirk. ”It can't be Bailey back again.”
”Good morning, Pennicut,” spoke the clear voice of Mrs. Lora Delane Porter. ”I wish to see Mr. Winfield.”
”Yes, ma'am. He's upstairs in 'is bath!”
”I will wait in the studio.”
”Good Lord!” cried Kirk, bounding from his seat on the rail. ”For Heaven's sake, Steve, go and talk to her while I dress. I'll be down in a minute.”
”Sure. What's her name?”
”Mrs. Porter. You'll like her. Tell her all about yourself--where you were born, how much you are round the chest, what's your favourite breakfast food. That's what she likes to chat about. And tell her I'll be down in a second.”
Steve, reaching the studio, found Mrs. Porter examining the boxing-gloves which had been thrown on a chair.
”Eight-ounce, ma'am,” he said genially, by way of introduction.
”Kirk'll be lining up in a moment. He's getting into his rags.”
Mrs. Porter looked at him with the gimlet stare which made her so intensely disliked by practically every man she knew.
”Are you a friend of Mr. Winfield?” she said.
”Sure. We just been spieling together up above. He sent me down to tell you he won't be long.”
Mrs. Porter concluded her inspection.
”What is your name?”
”Dingle, ma'am.”
”You are extraordinarily well developed. You have unusually long arms for a man of your height.”
”Yep. I got a pretty good reach.”
”Are you an artist?”
”A which?”
”An artist. A painter.”