For a business woman, Kate took singularly small interest in her letters that morning, and Mrs. Craven from behind the coffee-pot looked at her rather wistfully. They were staying in the Lakes, and were supposed to be motoring. But though the old lady was vigorous enough, and was only too pleased to bustle about from place to place, Kate was listless, and always had an excuse when change was suggested. As a reason, she said she had been overworking herself, and wanted to sit still and do nothing; but she did not believe this herself nor did Mrs. Craven believe it. Moreover, Kate knew that Mrs. Craven disbelieved. She was a very healthy young woman as a general thing, but that morning she ate a thoroughly bad breakfast, and crumbled a slice of toast beside her plate to give a general idea of performance. Then she threw her napkin on the table, and again went through the envelopes. There was one from the Liverpool office. She opened it, and drew out half a dozen typewritten sheets. But the distaste for business was big in her, and she was putting these down with the rest when a name caught her eye. Cascaes. She read the sentence surrounding it. "Our Mr. Cascaes cables that he this morning married a Miss Laura Slade, and on her insistence hereby tenders us his resignation." Kate snapped the papers together, looked at her bracelet watch and stood up briskly. "Aunt Jane, I am sorry, but a very important matter has turned up which drags me off to Liverpool for the day." Mrs. Craven was a wise woman and could read signs. Moreover, she had known Kate from three years old, upwards. "My dear," she said, "I'm rejoiced at your news. Go and make it up with him." Kate blushed and laughed. "It isn't that at all, aunt. Or only partly. But I must go." "There's no train now till mid-day." "I shall motor down to Carnforth and cut off the 10.38 there." "If you don't break your neck in the process, you'll land in gaol for excessive speed," said the old lady; "and," she added dryly, "I'm sure you'd prefer even one of those alternatives to staying sensibly here with me, and waiting for a train in the decent course of things. There, run along, Kitty, and get your things on, and I'll go and incite Wagner." Miss O'Neill went upstairs to her bedroom two steps at a time, and for the moment was minded to drag on any outer clothes that would cover her. But then a thought came to her, and she smiled, and took out from its box a Paris hat that she had never worn before. She pinned this into place with infinite care, covered it and her auburn hair with a capacious motor veil, and hung another veil, which had in it a protective window of talc, over her pretty face. And then she put on a great motor coat. She was very much guarded from the dust and the weather externally, but inside the ugly chrysalis was as spruce a Kitty O'Neill as any man could have sighed after.