She gave a little laugh. 'New? I should say not. Just freshening up a bit for to-morrow.'
'To-morrow?' he echoed dully. 'What's on for to-morrow?'
'Guest day at the club. Mrs. Wiley has asked me to pour tea. What kept you out so late, Johnny?'
He crossed over to the fire, pulling his easy chair into place.
'I went over to the city—to see Julia Norris.'
He stood a moment, undecided, his back turned toward Kitty, his hand upon the chair. He was waiting for Kitty to question him. Finding that she did not answer, he turned and looked at her. She was intent on her sewing, but he fancied that the flush of happiness suddenly had fled her cheeks.
'I went over to see Julia Norris,' he repeated desperately. 'You said your advice wouldn't be necessary.'
He sank into a chair. Across the room he heard the monotonous ticking of a clock.
He was wondering what Kitty would say. Of course she understood; the whiteness of her face told him that her feminine intuition had bridged the gaps in his explanation. He began to have a terror lest she would come up to him, or speak—perhaps even weep. The fire in the grate flared up suddenly, turned faintly blue, and died. Still Kitty said nothing; still the clock ticked rhythmically.
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and drew a long breath. Kitty was stirring. She came over and dropped gently before the fire, leaning her head against him.