It was instinctive, and she could not help it. He yielded almost without reluctance, and lowering the window in the front of the carriage, spoke to the coachman. Katharine breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad—oh, I’m so glad!” she cried, leaning far back in her seat. “I couldn’t have stood Crowdie for a whole evening!”
Ralston said nothing in answer, for he was already repenting of his weakness, and the vision of his friend’s face rose before him, with all its habitual calm cheerfulness suddenly twisted out of it.
“Thank you, dear,” said Katharine, softly laying her sound hand upon his. “That was sweet of you. You don’t know how I feel about it. And you’ll come in this evening, won’t you? Then perhaps Ham will go out. And Mrs. Bright always goes to bed early, so we can have an hour or two all to ourselves.”
“Certainly,” answered Ralston, a little absently, for he was thinking more of Bright than of himself just then.
Katharine withdrew her hand from his, not quickly, nor so that he should think she was hurt again by his tone. And she really suppressed the little sigh of disappointment which rose to her lips.
They had been already in Fourth Avenue when Ralston had given the new direction to the coachman, and he had turned his horses and was driving back. The Brights lived in a small but pretty house in Park Avenue, on Murray Hill. It was some distance to go back.
“Jack,” said Katharine, quietly, “Hamilton Bright’s your friend. Don’t you think you’d better tell him that we’re married, and put him out of his misery? Don’t you think it would be much more kind? You can trust him, can’t you?”
“Just as I’d trust myself,” answered Ralston, without hesitation. “It’s for your sake, dear—otherwise, I should have told him long ago. But you know what most people think of secret marriages, and Ham’s full of queer prejudices. Even the West couldn’t knock them out of him. He’s the most terrific conservative about some things. That’s the reason why I never thought of suggesting that I might tell him. Of course—if you’d rather. It would be a blow to him, I think, but at the same time it’s much better that he should know, for his own sake. Only—I’d rather not tell him while you’re in the house.”
“Oh—if it’s going to make any difference about my staying there, we’d better wait,” answered Katharine. “Of course—I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose it would make it all the worse, just at first. He wouldn’t like to see me. But he must have known, long ago, that we were engaged, and that he had no chance.”