Austin rose and bent over Katherine's chair in some concern. "You're not distressed, Katherine?"
"Oh, no. You have been such a kind, loyal friend to me during a very dark and lonely time--brought sunshine into my life when I needed it most--that I should be a wicked woman if I didn't rejoice at your happiness. And we have been nothing more than friends."
"Nothing more," said Austin.
She was smiling now, and he caught a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
"And yet there was an afternoon last winter--"
His face coloured. "Don't throw my wickedness in my face. I remember that afternoon. I came in fagged, with the prospect of dinner at the club and a dismal evening over a brief in front of me, and found you sitting before the fire, the picture of rest and comfortableness and companionship. I think it was the homely smell of hot buttered toast that did it. I nearly asked you to marry me."
"And I had been feeling particularly lonely," she laughed.
"Would you have accepted me?"
"Do you think that it is quite a fair question?"
"We have always been frank with one another since our childhood," said he.