“What ‘he,’ Nelly?” asked Katherine; she looked down at the writing on the envelope of her letter, and the becoming flush that her walk through the warm evening had brought to her cheeks faded a little.
Allan Hope had gone on into the hotel, and Nelly’s excited eyes followed him till he was safely out of sight.
“Mr. Odd,” she said with dramatic emphasis. “Of course he didn’t know.”
“Oh, he is here!” Katherine’s eyes were still on the writing. “No, of course he didn’t know.”
“You aren’t afraid of his meeting Allan?” Nelly was Allan Hope’s cousin. “Is there no danger, Miss Archinard? He must be feeling so—dreadfully!”
“What a romantic little pate it is! I really believe you were looking forward to a duel. No, no, Nelly, there is nothing of an exciting nature to hope for!”
“But won’t it be terrible for you to meet him? The first time, you know! And engaged to Allan!” said Nelly.
“We are not at all afraid of one another. Don’t tremble, Nelly.”
Katherine read her letter standing on the terrace before the hotel. The dying evening seemed to throb softly in the southern sky, arching solemnly to the horizon line. Katherine looked out at the sea—it was characteristic of her deeply set eyes to look straight out and seldom up. She stood still, holding the letter quietly; Katherine had none of the weakness that seeks an outlet for the stress of resolution in nervous gesture. She did not even walk up and down; indeed the resolution was made and meditation needless. Turning after a moment, she went into the hotel and asked at the office whether Mr. Odd were to be found.
“Yes, he was in his room; he had only arrived an hour ago.”