hened up. It will be nice to be
near the Danforths; I get on with them so well."

"They are always talking about you," rejoined Arnold, with perfect
truth.

When he was gone, the two widows sat in silence for a little while. The
elder knitted diligently; the younger toyed with her feathery fan.

"What do you think of him, Olivia?" Mrs. Verdon asked at last. There was
a faint ring of impatience in her tone. She had been waiting for the
other to speak first.

"There is something uncommon in him which makes him attractive," replied
Mrs. Tell, without glancing up from her work. "And he doesn't seem
anxious to attract. Not that he is indifferent, but----"

"Of course he is not indifferent." Katherine's silvery voice was
shriller than usual. "I found it very easy to please him. But he is not
a gushing man. I hate gushing men."

"So do I," returned Mrs. Tell. "No, he is not gushing; but I think--yes,
I am sure--that he could be emotional if he were to let himself go."

"Really, Olivia, I didn't give you credit for so much imagination," said
Mrs. Verdon sharply. "Now, I am quite sure that he would never, under
any circumstances, be emotional. He has travelled a great deal and seen
everything, and he is just in the state to enjoy repose. He would like
even to glide quietly into love without disturbing his calmness."

Then, prompted by an utterly unaccountable impulse, Mrs. Tell made one
of the greatest mistakes she had ever made in her life. "Do you know,
Katherine," she said, "I think you have at last found a man who doesn't
mean to propose to you?"

Mrs. Verdon's fan ceased its regular come-and-go and lay motionless in
her lap. She did not speak, and Mrs. Tell, who had expected her to laugh
at her little speech, was startled by her silence. Presently Katherine
rose, with a sort of queenliness which became her very well. "I am tired
to-night," she said, quite ignoring her sister-in-law's remark. "In this
hot weather one begins to pine for the country. Jamie has looked pale
to-day. By-the-way, I shall call on Miss Kilner to-morrow, and ask her
to dinner before we go away." Then she went off to her room without
another word, and Mrs. Tell was left alone with the consciousness of her
blunder.

If Katherine was tired, her eyes had never been more wakeful. Her maid,
who entered noiselessly, found her standing by a window overlooking the
garden, gazing out into the moonlight. It was a London garden, dry and
dusty by day,