“Very well, Katherine:  you devote yourself to acquire the art here, and then join us in a house in town this spring.  I was reading the advertisements in the Times to-day.  I always look at the houses to let, and there is one to let in Chester Square which would suit us exactly; that is, if you will join.  She ought to have a season in town, ought she not, Mr. De Burgh?”

He looked keenly at Katherine, and smiled.  “Yes, Miss Liddell ought to taste the incomparable delights of the season by all means.  Life is incomplete without it.”

“I should like to experience it certainly, for once, but I shall be more in the mood for such excitements next year—­perhaps,” returned Katherine, gravely.

“Oh, my dear Katie, never put things off!  At all events, be presented.  That would be a sort of beginning; and I am to be presented too, so we might go together.”

“I do not intend to be presented,” said Katherine; “it would be needless trouble.  I have not the least ambition to go to court.”

“But, Katherine, it is absolutely necessary to take your proper position in society.  It is not, Mr. De Burgh?”

“What is your objection?” asked De Burgh, disregarding his hostess.  “Are you too radical, or too transcendental, or what?”

“Neither.  I simply do not care to go, and do not see the necessity of going.”

“You were always the strangest girl!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, a good deal annoyed.  “But still, if you were with us, you might see a good deal—­”

“You know, Ada, I am fixed for this year, and would not change even if I could.”

“Forgive me for interrupting you,” said Errington, coming from the next room.  “But if you are disengaged, Lady Alice would be greatly obliged by your playing for her.”

“Certainly,” cried Katherine.  She had a sort of pleasure in obliging Errington, and Lady Alice for his sake; and putting her knitting into its little case, she rose and accompanied him to what was called the music-room, because it contained a grand piano and an old, nearly stringless violin.

“I don’t think,” said De Burgh, looking after her, “that your sister-in-law is quite as much under your influence as you fancy.”

“Oh, don’t you?” cried Mrs. Ormonde, feeling a flash of dislike to Katherine thrill through her.  It was terribly trying to find an admirer, of whom she was so proud, drawn from her by that “tiresome, obstinate girl”; it was also enough to vex a saint to see her turn a deaf ear to her more experienced and highly placed sister’s suggestion.  “When you know a little more of her you will see how obstinate and headstrong she is.”

“Ah! troublesome qualities those, especially in a rich woman, and a handsome one to boot.  There is something very taking about that sister-in-law of yours, Mrs. Ormonde.  If I were Lady Alice I wouldn’t trust Errington with her:  she would be a dangerous rival.”