A flush of pleasure passed over Kate's face, and when she raised her eyes her look seemed to have caught some of the brightness of the sunset. But it died into grey gloom even as the light above, and she said sighing:
'I don't suppose he'd marry me.'
'Well, if he wouldn't, there are lots who would.'
'What do you mean?' asked Kate simply.
'Oh, nothing; only I should think that anyone would be glad to marry you,' the young man answered, hoping that she would not repeat the conversation to her lover.
'I hope he will; for if he were to leave me, I think I should die. But tell me—you will, won't you? For you are my friend, aren't you?'
'I hope so,' he replied constrainedly.
'Well, tell me the truth: do you think he can be constant to a woman? Does he get tired easily? Does he like change?'
Kate laid her hand on Montgomery's shoulder, and looked pleadingly in his face.
'Dick is an awful good fellow, and I'm sure he couldn't but behave well to anyone he liked—not to say loved; and I know that he never cared for anybody as he does for you; he as much as told me.'