"Ah!" cried Katherine, her eyes lighting up, her tremulous lips parting in a smile. "Then you would have had some of the money too."
"Then you quite forgive me?" again rising, and coming over to stand beside her.
"You must feel I do, Mr. Errington. Now I will say good-by. If you can help me with George, I shall be most grateful."
"Promise that you will look on me as one of your most devoted friends. He took her hand again.
"Can you indeed feel friendship for one you cannot respect?" she returned, in a low tone, with one of the quick, vivid blushes which usually rose to her cheek when she was much moved.
"But I do respect you. Why should I not? A generous, impulsive woman like you cannot be judged by the cold maxims of exact justice; you must be tried by the higher rules of equity."
"You comfort me," said Katherine, with indescribably sweet graceful humility. "I thank you heartily, and will say good-by."
"I will come and see you into a cab," returned Errington, feeling himself anxious that no one should recognize her, and not knowing when their tete-a-tete might be interrupted.
They went out together, and walked a little way in silence. "You will let me come and see you, to hear—" began Errington, when Katherine interrupted him.
"Not just now. I think we had better not seem to know anything of each other, or perhaps George Liddell may suspect you of being my friend."