At that moment the door was opened by one of the footmen.
“Mr. Ralston,” said the man, announcing John, who entered immediately afterwards.
The door closed behind him as he came forward. Katharine’s heart jumped, as she became conscious of his presence. It was as though a strong current of life had been turned upon her after having been long alone with death. Ralston moved easily, with the freedom that comes naturally of good proportions. His bright brown eyes gleamed with pleasure, and the hard, defiant lines of the lean face relaxed in a rare smile.
He kissed her tenderly, with a nervous, passionate lightness that belongs only to finely organized beings, twice or three times. And then she kissed him once with all her heart, and looked into the eyes she loved.
“How good it is to have this chance!” he exclaimed, happily. “This is better than South Fifth Avenue at nine o’clock in the morning—isn’t it? Why didn’t we think of it before?”
“I can’t be always stopping with uncle Robert, you know,” answered Katharine. “I wish I could.”
Something in the tone of the last words attracted his attention. With a gentle touch he made her turn her face to the light, and looked at her.
“What’s happened?” he asked, suddenly. “There’s been some trouble, I know. Tell me—you’ve had more worry at home, haven’t you?”
“Oh—it’s nothing!” Katharine answered, lightly. “You see how easy it is for me to get away. What does it matter?”
“Yes—but there has been something,” insisted John, shaking his head. “I don’t like this, Katharine.”