“I cannot tell.  He seems to me very good and very nice.”

“That is a goody-goody description.  Well done!”—­as Katherine guided her ponies successfully through the gate of her abode and turned them round the gravel sweep.  “I must say you have a pretty little nook here.”

“Had you arrived an hour sooner you would have seen Mrs. Ormonde.  I have just seen her off by the 12.30 train.  She has been paying us a farewell visit, and is gone to Lady Mary Vincent.”

“Indeed!  She will have her cup of pleasure running over there; they live in a flutter of gayety all day long.”

Here De Burgh sprang to the ground and assisted Katherine to alight.

“Will you lunch with us?” she asked, an additional tinge of color mounting to her cheek; for she knew De Burgh was no favorite of Miss Payne, who was no doubt rejoicing at the prospect of repose and deliverance from their late guest, who generally managed to rub her hostess the wrong way.

“You are very kind.  I shall be delighted.”

While Katherine went ostensibly to put aside her hat—­really to warn Miss Payne—­De Burgh strolled into the drawing-room.  How cool and fresh and sweet with abundant flowers it was!  An air of refined homeliness about it, the work and books and music on the open piano, spoke of well-occupied repose.  Its simplicity was graceful, and indicated the presence of a cultured woman.

De Burgh wandered to the window—­a wide bay—­and took from a table which stood in it a cabinet photograph of Katherine, taken about a year before.  He was absorbed in contemplating it when she came in, and he made a step to meet her.  “This is very good,” he said.  “Where was it taken?”

“In Florence.”

“It is like”—­looking intently at her, and then at the picture.  “But you are changed in some indescribable way, changed since I saw you last, years ago—­that is, a month—­isn’t it a month since you drove me from paradise?—­but you don’t remember.”

“But, Mr. De Burgh, I did not drive you away.  You got bored, and went away of your own free-will.”

“I shall not argue the point with you—­not now; but tell me,” with a very steady gaze into her eyes, “has anything happened since I left to waken up your soul?  It was by no means asleep when I saw you last, but it has met with an eye-opener of some kind, I am convinced.”

“I should not have given you credit for so much imagination, Mr. De Burgh.”

Here Miss Payne made her appearance, and the boys followed.  They were treated with unusual good-humor and bonhomie by De Burgh, who actually took Charlie on his knee and asked him some questions about boating, which occupied them till lunch was announced.

Miss Payne was too much accustomed to yield to circumstances not to accept De Burgh’s attempts to be amiable and agreeable.  He could be amusing when he chose; there was an odd abruptness, a candid avowal of his views and opinions, when he was in the mood, that attracted Katherine.