She lifted her eyes again to his as though to search him through and through.
“At any rate,” asked Westerham, with a smile, “have you a sufficiently good opinion of me to grant me just a few moments to say something?”
“It seems I cannot help myself,” she said, with a pained little laugh.
“Lady Kathleen,” he answered earnestly, “you are very much upset. I assure you that if you will only hear me out you will not regret it—at least you may rest assured that you will be free from any insult or annoyance.
“It will take me some few minutes to explain,” he went on, “and so I think it would be best for you to sit down.”
Without waiting for an answer he took her by the hand and led her gently to the steps. She sank down on them with a heavy sigh.
“The other night,” said Westerham, “I was sufficiently honest to save you from an awkward situation.”
Lady Kathleen was about to speak, but he would not allow it.
“No, no!” he urged, “I did not mention it to be thanked again. I have been more than thanked already. I only did what any ordinary decent man would do. I have no desire to dwell on that. Indeed, I simply mentioned it in order that I might convince you that I wish you well.”
“But you knew that man,” she cried; “you must have known him.”