Katherine requested the man to tell Mr. Odd that Miss Archinard was on the terrace and would like to see him. In two minutes Peter was walking out to meet her.
Peter’s eyes, as they shook hands, were rather sternly steady; Katherine’s steady, but more humorous.
“Sans rancune?” she inquired, with some lightness, and then, sparing him the necessity for a reply that might be embarrassing for both of them—
“I want to ask you a question; pardon abruptness; why don’t you marry Hilda? Won’t she? There are two questions!”
“I don’t marry her because she won’t. And there is the evident reply, Katherine.”
“Do you despair?” she asked.
“I can’t say that. Time may wear out her resistance.”
“I know Hilda better than you do—perhaps. You see I have got over my jealousy.” Katherine’s smile had all its charm. “She won’t if she said she wouldn’t; if she has ideals on the subject.”
“Then I must resign myself to hopeless wretchedness.”
“No; you must not. I am going to help you. Don’t look so gloomily unimpressed. I am going to help you. I am going to do penance, and I don’t believe you will consider it an expiation either! Just encourage me by a little appreciation of my dubious nobility.” Odd looked questioningly at her.