He led his visitor to the bedroom regions, and Kate returned to the drawing-room. Rose was there dressed beautifully, and with flowers in her hair, and all curiosity to hear who their visitor was. There was a heightened colour in Kate's face and an altered expression in her eyes that puzzled Grace.
"He is Sir Ronald Keith," she said, in reply to Rose. "I have known him for years."
"Sir Ronald; knight or baronet?"
"Baronet, of course," Kate said, coldly; "and Scotch. Don't get into a gale, Rose; you won't care about him; he is neither young nor handsome."
"Is he unmarried?"
"Yes."
"And rich?"
"His income is eight thousand a year."
"Mon Dieu! A baronet and eight thousand a year! Kate, I am going to make a dead set at him. Lady Keith—Lady Rose Keith; that sounds remarkably well, doesn't it? I always thought I should like to be 'my lady.' Grace, how do I look?"
Kate sat down to the piano, and drowned Rose's words in a storm of music. Rose looked at her with pursed-up lips.