"Come back with me," he said, spontaneously. "We can't talk here, can we? I dare say I can knock up some sort of a supper for you, if you don't mind a very primitive arrangement."
"It will be beautiful," she said; and the throb of pleasure in her voice allayed his last feeling of suspicion.
They found that, after all, they had very little to say to one another; and they were both glad of the occupation of preparing supper, when they arrived at the Temple and found that the housekeeper had gone out for the evening. They made as much fun as they could over the difficulties of procuring a meal, and avoided personal topics with a scrupulous care, and did not once run the risk of looking each other in the face. And afterwards, when they had made themselves comfortable in two chairs near the lamp and conversation became inevitable, an awkward embarrassment seized them both.
"It's very odd," said Katharine, frowning a little; "but I have been bottling up things to tell you for weeks, and now they seem to have got congested in my brain and I can't get one of them out. Why is it, I wonder? I can't have grown suddenly shy of you; but we seem to have lost touch, somehow. Oh, it's queer; I don't like it!"
She gave herself a little shake. Paul laughed slightly.
"What an absurd child you are! It is only because we have not been together lately, and so we've lost the trick of it. You are always turning yourself inside out, and then sitting down a little way off to look at it."
"I believe I do," owned Katharine. "I always want to know why certain things affect me in certain ways."
"Did you want to know why you were glad to see me, this evening?"
She looked up quickly at him for the first time.
"No," she said, frankly. "At least, I don't think I thought about it."