“How d’ye do, Miss Lauderdale?” he asked.
In spite of the family connection he had never got so far as to call her Katharine, or even cousin Katharine. The young girl shook hands with him and smiled.
“Are you out for a walk?” he asked, before she had been able to speak. “And if so, may I come too?”
“Oh, yes—do.”
She had been alone long enough to find it impossible to reach any conclusion, and of all people except Ralston, Miner was the one she felt most able to tolerate just then. His perfectly simple belief in himself and his healthy good humour made him good company for a depressed person.
“You seemed to be in such a hurry,” said Katharine, as he began to walk slowly by her side.
“Of course, as I was coming to meet you,” he answered promptly.
“But you didn’t know—”
“Providence knew,” he said, interrupting her. “It was foreordained when the world was chaos and New York was inhabited by protoplasm—and all that—that you and I should meet just here, at this very minute. Aren’t you a fatalist? I am. It’s far the best belief.”
“Is it? Why? I should think it rather depressing.”