John warmed to something almost approaching to geniality, in the midst of so much good-will, in spite of his many troubles and of the painful interview which was imminent. When Van De Water dropped the end of his cigar and suggested that they should go into the drawing-room and not waste the evening in doing badly what they could do well at their clubs from morning till night, John would have been willing to stay a little longer. He was very tired. Three or four glasses of wine would have warmed him and revived him earlier, but he had not broken down in his resolution yet--and coffee and cigars were not bad substitutes, after all. The chair was comfortable, it was warm and the lights were soft. He rose rather regretfully and followed the other men through the house to join the ladies. Without hesitation, since it had to be done, he went up to Katharine at once. She had managed to keep a little apart from the rest, and in the changing of places and positions which followed the entrance of the men, she backed by degrees towards a corner in which there were two vacant easy chairs, one on each side of a little table covered with bits of rare old silver-work, and half shielded from the rest of the room by the end of a grand piano. It would have been too remote a seat for two persons who wished to flirt unnoticed, but Katharine knew perfectly well that most of her friends believed her to be engaged to marry John Ralston, and was quite sure of being left to talk with him in peace if she chose to sit down with him in a corner. Gravely, now, and with no inclination to let his lips twist contemptuously, John sat down beside her, drawing his chair in front of the small table, and waiting patiently while she settled herself. “It was impossible to talk at table,” she said nervously, and with a slight tremor in her voice. “Yes--with all those people,” assented John. A short silence followed. Katharine seemed to be choosing her words. She looked calm enough, he thought, and he expected that she would begin to make a deliberate explanation. All at once she put out her hand spasmodically, drew it back again, and began to turn over and handle a tiny fish of Norwegian silver which lay among the other things on the table. “It’s all been a terrible misunderstanding--I don’t know where to begin,” she said, rather helplessly. “Tell me what became of my letter,” answered John, quietly. “That’s the important thing for me to know.” “Yes--of course--well, in the first place, it was put into papa’s hands this morning just as he was going down town.” “Did he keep it?” asked Ralston, his anger rising suddenly in his eyes. “No--that is--he didn’t mean to. He thought I was asleep--you see he had read those things in the papers, and was angry and recognized your handwriting--and he thought--you know the handwriting really was rather shaky, Jack.” “I’ve no doubt. It wasn’t easy to write at all, just then.” “Oh, Jack dear! If I’d only known, or guessed--”