Katherine's eyes met his. "Yes," she answered, but her voice was scarcely audible. There was an uneasy moment for both of them, then he went away.
Beatrice took up her sewing again and saw that Katherine's hands were trembling. "He's an abrupt person," she said; "don't you think so?"
"Yes," answered the other, in a low tone.
"He's lovable in a way, though, don't you think so? I wonder why he has never married?"
Katherine started and her lips moved, but there was no sound. Beatrice looked into her face for an illuminating instant—then she knew.
"Katherine!" she cried, in horror.
Mrs. Howard dropped her work and fled into the house, trying to lock the door, but the girl was too quick for her.
"Katherine, dear!" cried Beatrice, with her arms around the trembling woman, "don't be afraid of me! You poor child, don't you know a friend when you see one?"
"Friend?" repeated Katherine, in a rush of unwilling tears; "I have none!"
"Yes you have, dear; now listen to me. I'm your friend, and there's nothing in the world that could make me anything else. Tell me, and let me help you!"