“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Katharine, with a little laugh. “What does Hester think? As it’s to be for her, we might consult her.”
“But she doesn’t know it’s for her—she thinks it’s for you.”
“We might ask her all the same, and take her advice. Isn’t she at home?”
“No,” answered Crowdie, after a moment’s hesitation. “I think she’s gone out shopping.”
Katharine was not naturally suspicious, but there was something in the way Crowdie hesitated about the apparently insignificant answer which struck
her as odd. She had made the suggestion because his mere presence was so absurdly irritating to her that she longed for Hester’s company as an alleviation. But it was evident that Crowdie did not want his wife at that moment. He wanted to be alone with Katharine.
“You might send and find out,” said the young girl, mercilessly.
“I’m pretty sure she’s gone out,” Crowdie replied, moving up an easel upon which was set a large piece of grey pasteboard. “Even if she is in, she always has things to do at this time.”
He looked steadily at Katharine’s face and then made a quick stroke on the pasteboard, then looked again and then made another stroke.