She dropped her muff, and, as St. Quentin did not even see it, she stooped hastily for it herself, murmuring:
"That let's me down hard!" But with characteristic energy she wasted no time in repining nor even in analyzing her emotions. She was not yet sure whether she was experiencing wounded vanity or the first pangs of a love-affair. She was extraordinarily healthy-minded and instinctively loyal.
It was this latter feeling which prompted her to leave herself out of the matter, for the present, at least, and to be sure wherein lay her friend's happiness before she proceeded further.
As she and St. Quentin left the house together, they met Sherman Lee just coming up the steps, looking pale and anxious.
"Is Carol at home?" he inquired, eagerly, and before they could reply, added, "and alone?"
"Yes, she is," answered Kate, "and if you hurry, you will be in time to get a cup of tea."
He thanked them and ran hastily up the steps.
"How I admire a woman's tact," said St. Quentin, giving her a grateful glance.
"How do you mean?" asked Kate to gain time, though the quick colour flew to her face.
"My man's first idea would have been to ask Sherman what the matter was--he was plainly distraught--"