She was playing with the edge of a piece of Italian embroidery which covered a small table close to her elbow, and she was thinking—hard.
At that moment the drawing-room door opened, and the tea appeared. While the table was being drawn up in front of her, the tray placed on to it, and a taper put to the spirit lamp, Katty's mind went on working busily. And by the time the maid was leaving the room, she had come to a decision. Even to her it was a momentous decision—how momentous to others she was destined never to know.
Again she said slowly, impressively, "Yes, Mr. Baynton, I am sorry indeed for poor Laura."
"I'm sorry too. Not that it much matters! I didn't want to stay at The Chase. I always thought it a gloomy place in the old days, when I was a child—I mean when it still belonged to Mrs. Tropenell's people. Of course I shall see Laura again—Godfrey can't prevent that! In fact he admitted that he couldn't."
There was a little pause. And then Katty, her eyes bent downwards, said, "I didn't quite mean that, Mr. Baynton. Of course I'm very sorry about your new row with Mr. Pavely, for it must be so hateful to Laura to feel she can't have her own brother in her own house. But—well——" She threw her head back, and gazed straight across at him. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked.
"Yes, of course I can!" He looked at her amused.
"I want you to keep what I'm going to say absolutely to yourself. I don't want you ever to hint a word of it to Laura—still less to Oliver Tropenell."
"Of course I won't!" He looked at her with growing curiosity. What was it she was going to tell him?
"I wonder if I ought to tell you," she murmured.
He laughed outright. "Well, I can't make you tell me!"