"Is that a compliment?" she asked, trying to speak naturally.
"I hope so; I meant it to be."
Her hand was resting on the open door of the car; for an instant he laid his own above it; Christine drew hers quickly away.
"Well, we'll be ready at two, then," she said. She turned to the house. Kettering drove slowly down the drive. He was a very fine-looking man, Christine thought with sudden wistfulness; he had been so kind to her—kinder than anyone she had ever known. She was glad he was going to have Upton House, as it had got to be sold. He had promised her to look after it, and not have any of the trees in the garden cut down.
"It shall all be left just as it is now," he told her.
"Perhaps some day you'll marry, and your wife will want it altered," she said sadly.
"I shall never get married," he had answered quickly.
She had been glad to hear him say that; he was so nice as a friend, somehow she did not want anyone to come along and change him.
She went into the house and called to Gladys.
"I thought you would think we were lost perhaps," she said laughingly, as she thrust her head into the morning-room where Gladys was sitting.