Kate smiled, and shook her head.
"What a stupid numskull I was not to translate the instinctive feeling of your presence correctly, instead of pooh-poohing it away, after our friend Winter's fashion; however, all's well now. Give my kindest remembrance to Mrs. O'Toole when you write."
"Certainly," said Kate, "I shall not fail."
"Your cousin, Lady Desmond, is in Ireland, so Burton told me; he is a capital fellow; but Dashwood was away, God knows where; and he was the only person it appears who had any trace of you. Do you know where he is?"
"No, he told me he was going to fish in Ireland when I saw him last."
"So Lord Effingham is off to St. Petersburgh, Miss Vernon," said Langley, at this juncture.
Kate felt that Fred's eye was on her, and coloured deeply, as she merely bowed in assent.
"Curious place to winter in," he continued.
Then Winter made some observations about the freezing of the Neva, and the Russian costume; and he and Langley talked on for a good while standing on the hearth-rug, and sipping their tea; but Egerton was silent, for some time; and Kate did not like to look at him; at last he asked—
"Do you ever sing now?"