I do not know whether Katherine attributed Owen’s sudden departure to me or not, but I think it extremely probable that she did, although she never mentioned it. Yet we sometimes spoke of Owen himself during the days that followed. In those days we slipped back more or less into our former friendship, and I tried to feel that it was just the same. Yet something of the old freedom had gone, and I could not forget what Katherine had said to me the night before Owen’s departure. After a few days, indeed, it came into my romantic mind that there might be another interpretation of her behaviour on that occasion, one I hardly dared even to dream of, so much was it what I desired. But it influenced me nevertheless. I longed to have another day alone with her――a day such as we had had last year, and I determined to ask her to come somewhere with me alone, to come, that is, without Gerald. I went up to Derryaghy one afternoon with this intention, and was shown into the morning-room, where I found Mrs. Carroll and Miss Dick. Mrs. Carroll informed me that Katherine had been washing her hair, and was now drying it at the kitchen fire. She told me to go on in if I wanted to speak to her, but I hung back bashfully. In the end I went, all the same, and discovered Katherine sitting on a stool, a book open on her knee, and her long, thick, dark brown hair hanging loose in the red glow of the kitchen range. “It’s well for you you haven’t to undergo torments of this kind!” she exclaimed. “I was baked nearly ten minutes ago. My hair was simply full of salt. I don’t know how it gets in under my bathing-cap.” The situation may seem more homely than romantic, but I thought she looked extremely lovely, and gazed at her in silent admiration. Perhaps she noticed it, for she coloured as she laughed. “My dear Peter, aren’t you going to say good-morning to me? I’m not the Sleeping Beauty, you know?” “What beautiful hair you have,” I said, in an awed tone, and involuntarily I touched it with my hand. She laughed again, but drew back. “Did you come in just to admire it? It’s very nice of you.” “I came to ask you to go for a walk with me this afternoon, round by the Hilltown Road――by the road under the mountains――just you by yourself.” “‘Me by myself!’ When do you want to go?” “After lunch.” “Very well――if it’s not too hot.” The readiness with which she consented made me consider myself a fool for not having asked her sooner, and I began to regret all my lost opportunities. On my way home I met Gerald, who wanted to know if I had bathed yet. “I bathed before breakfast. Where have you been?” “Oh, just down to the Club House.” I turned back with him. I had made up my mind to say something he might possibly resent, but I plunged into my subject without beating about the bush. “Don’t you think you are rather a fool to go down there so often?” “Down where?” asked Gerald. “To the Club House?”