“I did think of coming yesterday afternoon—and then it rained, and Charlotte came—”
“Yes—it rained—I remember.” Robert Lauderdale’s mouth quivered, as though he should have liked to smile at the utter insignificance of the shower as compared with the importance of Katharine’s action. “You might have taken a cab. There’s a stand close by your house, at the Brevoort.”
“Oh, yes—of course—though I should have had to ask mamma for some money, and that would have been very awkward, you know. And if I had really and truly meant to come, I suppose I shouldn’t have minded the rain.”
“Well—never mind the rain now!” Uncle Robert spoke a little impatiently. “You didn’t come—and you’ve come to-day, when it’s too late to do anything—except regret what you’ve done.”
“I don’t regret it at all—and I don’t intend to,” Katharine answered firmly.
“And what do you mean to do in the future? Live with Ralston’s mother? Is that your idea?”
“Certainly not. I want you to give Jack something to do, and we’ll live together, wherever you make him go—if it’s to Alaska.”
“Oh—that’s it, is it? I begin to understand. I suppose Jack would think it would simplify matters very much if I gave him a hundred thousand dollars, wouldn’t he? That would be an even shorter way of giving him the means to support his family.”
“Jack wouldn’t take money from you,” answered Katharine, quickly.