In spite of her flightiness and love of pleasure she had a very keen sense of her own interest, and perceiving Colonel Ormonde’s decided appreciation, she had made up her mind to marry him.

This, she felt, would be more easily designed than accomplished.  Colonel Ormonde was an old soldier in every sense, and an old bachelor to boot, with an epicurean taste for good dinners and pretty women.  He might sacrifice something for the first, but the latter were too plentiful and too come-at-able to be worth great cost.  Still, it was generally believed he was matrimonially inclined, and Mrs. Fred thought she might have as good a chance as any one else, had she not been hampered with her two boys.

It would be too dreadful if Ormonde’s fancy were caught by Katherine’s bold eyes and big figure.  So Mrs. Fred wished that her sister-in-law might not put in an appearance.

“She is not a bit like other girls,” thought the little woman, as she finally shook the duster out of the open window and set herself to distribute the flowers she had bought the previous evening to the best advantage.  “She has no dear friends, no acquaintances with whom she likes to stop and chatter; she never stays out, and I don’t think she ever had the ghost of a lover.  When I was her age I had had a dozen, and I was married.  Poor Fred!  Heigho!  I wish he had left me a little money, and I am sure I should never dream of giving him a successor.  But for the sake of the dear boys I should never think of marrying!  How cruel it is to be so poor, and to be with such unenterprising people!  If Mrs. Liddell would only venture to make an appearance, and just risk a little, she might dispose of Kate and of me too.  There are men who might admire Kate, and there they go on screwing and scribbling.  I wish my mother-in-law would write for some big magazine—­Blackwood or Temple Bar—­or not write at all!  That will do, I think.  That is the only strong arm-chair in the house; it will stand nicely beside the sofa.  Oh, have you come in already, children?”—­as the two boys peeped in.  “Couldn’t Jane have kept you out a little longer!  Don’t attempt to come in here!”

“Jane had to come back to lay the cloth.  Mamma, where is aunty?”

“She has not come in yet.  Why, dear me, it is nearly one o’clock!  Go and get off your boots, my darlings, and ask grandmamma when she expects aunty.”

Mrs. Liddell did not know when Katherine might return, and, moreover, she was getting uneasy.  She did not like to say much about her errand, for she knew her daughter-in-law thought but indifferently of her writings, and with an indescribable “crass” dislike of what she could not do herself, would have been rather pleased than otherwise to know that a manuscript had been rejected.

In looking over one of the drawers in her writing-table Mrs. Liddell had found that Katherine had left the shorter story behind.  This rendered her prolonged absence less accountable, for she could have interviewed several publishers of three-volume novels in the time.  The poor lady naturally feared that they must have refused even to look at her work, or Katherine would have returned.