Katherine controlled herself sternly. She shook hands calmly, saying it was cool by the water and a pleasant place to be.
"Solitude is good sometimes."
She had felt too restless to stay beneath the trees—even her will could not keep her disturbed thoughts from speculation as to what the day might bring. And now the Duke was here beside her, and the situation must be faced.
He came close and leaned upon the quaint wooden rails trying to look down into her averted face, while he whispered:
"I had rather enjoy a solitude à deux."
He saw that she was pale and that her manner was restrained. Did she possibly misunderstand the purpose of his coming?
"Look," and she pointed over to the swans—"they perhaps agree with you—they swim lazily about together, dignified and composed, far from turmoil and agitating currents. One envies the birds and beasts and fishes—sometimes," and she sighed.
"You must not sigh—look at me, Katherine. I want to see your eyes."
But she disobeyed him and turned the broad lids down. He leaned closer still, and this caused a wave of emotion to sweep over her, producing the same feeling which she had once thought only Lord Algy in all the world could evoke in her—so that the Duke saw those little nostrils quiver, which his friend Seraphim had spoken to him about, and the sight gave him great joy.