Katherine flushed up, and then grew white. "I have been out of town ever since—" Since what?—that turning-point in her life when she confessed all to him?
"And I have been in town," rejoined Errington. "It is not nearly so bad as some people imagine. Where are you staying?"
"Oh, I am always with Miss Payne, in Wilton Street."
"I remember. But I am keeping you standing. May I come and see you?"
"Oh no; I would rather not," cried Katherine, with an irresistible impulse which she regretted the next moment.
"You are always frank," said Errington, with a kind smile, yet in a disappointed tone. "I will not intrude, then. How are your nephews, and Mrs. Ormonde? I seem to have lost sight of every one, for I have become a very busy man."
"Yes, I know," she returned, her color going and coming, her heart beating so fast she could hardly speak. "I must seem so rude! But I have read some of your papers in The Age. It must, indeed, take time and study to produce such articles."
"And patience on the part of a young lady to wade through them."
"No; they always interest me, even when a little over my head. Though I do not want you to come and see me, I am always so glad to hear about you, to know you are well."