“Really?” drawled Frothingham. “That’s charming!” He smiled with good-natured raillery. “He had such a quaint way of showing it that I wasn’t quite certain.”
When he had bowed and dropped the heavy portière behind him Catherine went to the window. She stood there until she had seen him enter his hansom and drive away.
“How beautifully he dresses,” she said absently to Honoria. “And what distinguished manners he has—as if he’d been used to being a gentleman for ages and ages.”
She seated herself near the fire—the tea-table was between her and Honoria. “You didn’t know that we were engaged, did you?” she went on, looking dreamily into the fire.
“Were you?” said Honoria—she never betrayed confidences.
“Yes. But I broke it off.”
“Why?”
“I think,” Catherine answered slowly, “I think perhaps it was because I didn’t feel at home with him—and I do with—Joe. He knows how to manage me.”
“Joe? Why, you used to act as if you disliked him.”
“So did I—think so.” Catherine sighed. “I wish,” she said after a moment, “that Joe had Beauvais House and—the title.”