“No, I did not; for Mr. De Burgh never gave me an opportunity,” cried Katherine, indignantly.  “Nor did I ever ask him here.  I cannot prevent his coming and lodging at the hotel.  I am quite ready to talk to him, because he amuses me, but I am not bound to marry every man who does.  Tell Colonel Ormonde so, with my compliments.”

“I am sure I don’t want you to marry De Burgh!  Indeed, I am surprised at Duke; but you see, being chums and relations (and men stick together so), that he only thinks of De Burgh, who, entre nous, has been awfully fast.  He is amusing, and very distingue, but I am afraid he only cares for your money, dear.”

“Very likely,” returned Katherine, with much composure.

“Then another reason why the Colonel does not care to come down is that he has a great dislike to that Miss Payne. She is really hostess here, and it worries Duke to have to be civil to her.”

“Why?” asked Katherine.  “I can imagine her being an object of perfect indifference; but dislike—­no!”

“Well, dear, men never like that sort of women;—­people, you know, who eke out their living by—­doing things, when they are plain and old.  Handsome adventuresses are quite another affair—­they are amusing and attractive.”

“How absurd and unreasonable!”

“Yes, of course; they are all like that.  Then he thinks Miss Payne has a bad and dangerous influence on you.  He disapproves of your living on with her, for you don’t take the position you ought, and—­”

Katherine laughed good-humoredly as Mrs. Ormonde paused, not knowing very well how to finish her speech.  “Colonel Ormonde will hide the light of his countenance from me, then, I am afraid, for a long time; for I like Miss Payne, and I am going to stay with her for the period agreed upon; and I will not marry Mr. De Burgh, nor will I let him ask me to do so, for there is a degree of honesty about him which I like.  You may repeat all this to your husband, Ada, and add that but for a lucky chance his wife and myself would have been among the sort of women who eke out their living by doing things.  I don’t think I should be afraid of attempting self-support if all my money were swept away.”

“Don’t talk of such a thing!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, turning pale.  “Thank God what you have settled on the boys is safe!”

Katherine’s half-contemptuous good humor carried her serenely through this rather irritating visit, but the totally different train of thought which it evoked assisted her to recover her ordinary mental tone.  It was, however, touched by a minor key of sadness, of humility (save when roused by any moving cause to indignation), which gave the charm of soft pensiveness to her manner.

Mrs. Ormonde was rather in a hurry to go back to town, as she had important interviews impending with milliner and dressmaker prior to a visit to Lady Mary Vincent at Cowes, from which she expected the most brilliant results, for the little woman’s social ambition grew with what it fed upon.  Nor did the rational repose of Katherine’s life suit her.  Books, music, out-door existence, were a weariness, and in spite of her loudly declared affection for her sister-in-law she found a curious restraint in conversing with her.