“Then there’s nothing for it but to go to the Crowdies’. Will you take me down there? I’ve ordered the carriage, and I suppose it’s ready by this time. There can’t be any harm in our driving down together, can there?”
“Oh, no—I should think not. We’ll pull the shades half down. Is it one of uncle Robert’s carriages?”
“No—I sent to the livery stable. The men have no mourning coats—and I thought it would be odd if the carriage were seen driving about as though nothing had happened.”
Ralston could not help contrasting the tactful foresight of this proceeding with Katharine’s readiness to inflict any amount of pain upon Hamilton Bright. It was quite true that he could see her alone more easily at the Brights’ than at the Crowdies’, but his own consideration for his friend altogether outweighed the thought. Katharine saw that it did. She returned to the discussion when they were in the carriage.
“I should have thought you’d prefer to see me at the Brights’, Jack,” she said. “It would be so much nicer. Of course, at the Crowdies’ I can’t be always sending Hester off whenever you come. How strange you are sometimes! You don’t seem to see things as I do.”
“Not this, anyway,” cried John, arranging the shades as the carriage turned into Fifth Avenue. “I’m sorry for Ham.”
“I should think you’d sacrifice him a little for the sake of seeing me.” Her tone showed that she was a little hurt.
“Oh—of course! That is—” he interrupted himself—“that is, you know, if it were very important.”
“But isn’t it important—as you call it? I wonder whether it means as much to you as it does to me?” She looked at him.
“What?” he asked.