They were standing in the entry. When the servant admitted Mr. Somers, Kate had heard his voice, and perhaps from prudential motives—for there was a visitor in the parlor—she had preferred to meet him in the hall.
"You have been very fortunate, Mr. Somers," added she, gently releasing her hand from that of the ensign.
Mr. Somers, instead of "Prodigy"!
"I have. I don't deserve my promotion, I know; but I could not help taking it when it was within my reach," replied Somers; and her words, though so slightly chilled that the frigid tone could not have been noticed by any one who did not expect an unreasonable warmth, took half the conceit out of him, and let him down a long reach from the high hopes and brilliant expectations with which he had looked forward to this meeting.
"On the contrary, Mr. Somers, I think you deserve even more than you have received."
"Thank you, Miss Portington; you were always more lavish of kind words than I deserved."
"Why, Prodigy—"
She suddenly checked herself. It was evident to Somers that she intended to say something pert or saucy. Perhaps she choked down the impertinent words from the fear that the honorable secretary of the navy, if such wild and wayward young ladies as herself were permitted to contaminate the plushy air of Newport society, would remove the Naval Academy back to Annapolis, where it is better to be "proper" than to be loyal.
"You were about to say something, Miss Portington," said Somers.
"I was, but it was saucy."