Gerard, who joined the party by the piano when the men came in, watched her silently. She had studied to obtain an air of distinction, and Gerard, whose love did not blind his fastidious critical faculties, remarked that there was a real advance in this direction since the Christmas night when he had last seen her in evening dress. She did not look so sullen either and answered with fluency and ease when she was addressed, and not in the monosyllabic fashion of former days.
An elderly politician spoke to her. He seemed delighted with her conversation, and indicated by a gesture that she should sit down beside him when the songs were over and she was about to slip away out of the room.
Katherine was not at all certain whether she ought to stay or not, but Lady Garribardine at that moment came up and said casually, "You must not go to bed yet, Miss Bush, perhaps they will sing again; wait here and talk to Sir John."
And so bidden, Katherine was delighted to obey and used her intelligence to be agreeable and sympathetic. Gerard continued to watch her and felt pride in her.
"Your secretary is having a great success to-night, isn't she, Seraphim?" he said to his aunt.
"Yes—and it is deserved; the girl is one in a thousand. I think I shall encourage Sir John for her; he is longing for a wife, and has a tidy seven thousand a year, and only rare attacks of gout. She could manage him capitally and be of real use to the party. She will never let her heart interfere with her ambitions!"
"He would make an ideal husband!" Mr. Strobridge's tone was sardonic. "A lover in that case would be an immediate necessity—by all means, Seraphim, press the match!"
Her Ladyship gave him one of her shrewd glances and then she said:
"Come and breakfast with me in my sitting-room to-morrow morning, G. We can talk it over," and she chuckled softly.
When Katherine sat by her fire an hour later she set herself to look carefully over the last five months of her life, and to mark what they had brought her.