Just then a servant came in to say that Catherine was at the door in her carriage, and wished to know whether Honoria was at home. Honoria looked at Frothingham inquiringly. “As you please,” said Frothingham, settling his eyeglass firmly, and clearing his face of expression. Honoria left him in the large drawing room, and waited for Catherine in the adjoining smaller room. “Lord Frothingham is here,” she said in an undertone, after they had kissed each the other. Catherine paled and her eyes shifted. “Does he know I’m here?” she asked. “Yes,” replied Honoria, “but you needn’t see him if you don’t wish.” Catherine reflected. “I’m certain to meet him again some time, ain’t I, dear?” she said. “And it might be more awkward than this.” She advanced boldly with Honoria and put out her hand to him, her face flushing, and a delightful pleading look in her eyes. “I’m so glad to see you again, Lord Frothingham,” she said. “Ah--thank you--a great pleasure to me also, I’m sure,” he answered in his most expressionless tone. “Are you staying in town?” “We came up yesterday--to stay. Won’t you come to see us? Are you at the Waldorf? I do hope we can get you for a dinner mamma’s arranging for the latter part of next week.” “Very good of you. But I’m just off to Boston.” He shook hands with her, then with Honoria. At the door he turned, and a faint smile showed in his eyeglass and at the comers of his mouth. “Oh, I almost forgot--give my regards to Wallingford--when you see him--won’t you?” Catherine looked gratefully at him. “Thank you--thank you,” she said. “I know he’ll he glad of a friendly message from you. He’s very fond of you.” “Really?” drawled Frothingham. “That’s charming!” He smiled with good-natured raillery. “He had such a quaint way of showing it that I wasn’t _quite_ certain.” When he had bowed and dropped the heavy portière behind him Catherine went to the window. She stood there until she had seen him enter his hansom and drive away. “How beautifully he dresses,” she said absently to Honoria. “And what distinguished manners he has--as if he’d been used to being a gentleman for ages and ages.” She seated herself near the fire--the tea-table was between her and Honoria. “You didn’t know that we were engaged, did you?” she went on, looking dreamily into the fire. “Were you?” said Honoria--she never betrayed confidences. “Yes. But I broke it off.” “Why?” “I think,” Catherine answered slowly, “I think perhaps it was because I didn’t feel at home with him--and I do with--Joe. He knows how to manage me.” “Joe? Why, you used to act as if you disliked him.” “So did I--think so.” Catherine sighed. “I wish,” she said after a moment, “that Joe had Beauvais House and--the title.” VIII