The letter proved to be within the leaves of the late Mr. Steele’s book on Chemistry, and from this volume she extracted it, pressed it for a moment against her breast with her open hand, gazing across at her friend.
“Dorothy, my first love-letter!”
She turned the crisp, thin pages, and began:
“‘You may recollect that foot-note which you marked with red ink in the book you so kindly gave me on the subject of Catalysis, which did not pertain to the subject of the volume in question, and yet was so illuminative to any student of chemistry. They have done a great deal with Catalysis in Germany with amazing commercial results, but the subject is one so recent that I had not previously gone thoroughly into it.’”
Katherine paused in the reading, and looked across at her auditor, an expression almost of despair in her eloquent eyes.
“Dorothy, what under heaven is Catalysis?”
“Don’t ask me,” replied Dorothy, suppressing a laugh, struck by the ludicrousness of any young and beautiful woman pressing any such sentiments as these to her bosom.
“Have you ever heard of a Catalytic process, Dorothy?” beseeched Katherine. “It is one of the phrases he uses.”
“Never; go on with the letter, Kate.”
“‘I saw at once that if I could use Catalytic process which would be instantaneous in its solidifying effect on my liquid limestone, instead of waiting upon slow evaporation, I could turn out building stone faster than one can make brick. You, I am sure, with your more alert mind, saw this when you marked that passage in red.’”