alous anxiety to it. If
Roger did not take to the boy, then--deeply though she loved him--Roger
must go. For the same elements were constant in Katherine Calmady. Not
all the discipline of thirteen years had tamed the hot blood in her
which made her order out the Clown for execution. But as Ormiston
spoke, her face softened, her eyes grew luminous and smiled back at him
with an exquisite gladness. The soft gloom of her black velvet dress
emphasised the warm, golden whiteness of her bare shoulders and arms.
Ormiston seeing her just then, understanding something of the drama of
her thought, was moved from his habitual cool indifference of bearing.

"Katherine," he said, "do you know you take one rather by surprise.
Upon my word you're more beautiful than ever."

And Richard's clear voice rang out eagerly from the depths of the big
chair--

"Yes--yes--isn't she, Uncle Roger--isn't she--delicious?"

The man's smile broadened almost to laughter.

"You young monkey," he said very gently; "so you have discovered that
fact already, have you? Well, so much the better. It's a safe basis to
start from; don't you think so, Kitty?"

But Lady Calmady drew away her hand. The blood had rushed into her face
and neck. Her beauty, now, for so long, had seemed a negligible
quantity, a thing that had outlasted its need and use--since he who had
so rejoiced in it was dead. What is the value of ever so royal a crown
when the throne it represents has fallen to ruin? And yet, being very
much a woman, those words of praise came altogether sweetly to
Katherine from the lips of her brother and her son. She moved away,
embarrassed, not quite mistress of herself, sat down on the arm of
Richard's chair, leaned across him and patted the bull-dog--who raised
his heavy head with a grunt, and slapped Dickie smartly in the stomach
with his tail, by way of welcome.

"You dear foolish creatures," she said, "pray talk of something more
profitable. I am growing old, and, in some ways, I am rather thankful
for it. All the same, Dickie, darling, you positively must and shall go
to bed."

But Colonel Ormiston interrupted her. He spoke with a trace of
hesitation, turning to the fireplace and flicking the ash off the end
of his cigar.

"By the bye, Katherine, how's Mary Cathcart? Have you seen her lately?"

"Yes, last week."

"Then she's not gone the way of all flesh and married?"

"No," Lady Calmady answered. She bent a little lower, tracing out th