"There are more ways than one of killing a cat," murmured St. Quentin, stooping for Kate's immense ermine muff, which she had dropped for the third time, "than by choking it to death with cream."
Kate laughed delightedly.
Carolina turned from the doorway.
"Don't go, either of you," she said. "I am only going for some tea. Noel, ring for some more hot water, will you?"
"I wonder how it would be," said Kate, dreamily, "to be born without any relations at all! Could one manage to be happy, do you think?"
"Carol couldn't. She is very fond of Sherman."
"I wouldn't be fond of any brother who had lost all his own fortune and mine and was millions in debt besides. One couldn't love a fool, you know."
"I know. But do you remember what Carol said about wanting to be poor?"
"Of course I remember!" said Kate, "but I d-didn't believe her then and I d-don't believe her now. Carol was s-simply lying--that's the answer to that!"
"Lying about what?" asked Carolina, reëntering, with a square box in her hand. The box was of old silver, heavily carved and set with turquoise.