P. G. Wodehouse

“ 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?" ”

“ He had made up his mind to be perfectly calm and pleasant with Ruth. He had read in novels and seen on the stage situations of this kind, where the father had stormed and blustered. The foolishness of such a policy amused him. A strong man had no need to behave like that.
"I think I have heard it already," he said. "I have just been seeing Bailey."
"What did Bailey tell you, father?"
"That you fancied yourself in love with some actor or artist or other whose name I have forgotten."
"It is not fancy. I do love him." ”

“ 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?" ”