"I don't tell stories, mother. I shall have nothing to say to Mabel."
"Tell her nothing, then; only run away. What is the matter now?"
"One thing before you go, mother. I too had a letter to-night."
"Had you, my dear? I cannot be worried about your correspondence now."
"My letter was from Loftie."
"Loftus! What did he write about?"
"He is coming here to-morrow night."
Catherine glanced eagerly into her mother's face as she spoke. It did not grow any whiter or any more careworn.
She stood still for a moment in the middle of the drawing-room, evidently thinking deeply. When she spoke her brow had cleared and her voice was cheerful.
"This may be for the best," she said.