“She ought to love him, of course; that is where she is so foolish. I am afraid she has ruined her life. I love you, Peter, and he is every bit as good-looking as you are.” Katherine glanced at him with a sad and whimsical smile. Peter, certainly, was looking rather dazed. He stooped once more and kissed her.
“Thank you for loving me, Katherine.”
“You are welcome. It is a pity, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is”—Peter seated himself on the sofa, where Allan had sat the night before—“an awful pity,” he added. “I am astonished. I thought she cared for him.”
“So did I.”
“She cares for some one else, perhaps.” Odd locked his hands behind his head, and he too stared at the fire.
“There is no one else she could care for. I know Hilda’s outlook too well.”
“And she refused him,” he repeated musingly.
“Really, Peter, that sounds a little dull—not like you.” Katherine smiled at him.
“I feel dulled. I am awfully sorry. It would have been so satisfactory. And what’s to be done now?”