Katharine was leaning back against the cushion, her hands folded together, and her face set like a mask; but she said nothing, and scarcely seemed to be listening, though she heard every word. “Of course, dear,” continued Mrs. Crowdie, “I know how you love him--but you mustn’t think any the worse of him for this. Ham just told me it wasn’t--well--it wasn’t as bad as Walter made out, and he was very angry with Walter for telling me--as though he would keep anything from me!” She stopped again, being much more inclined to talk of Crowdie than of Ralston, and to defend his indiscretion. Katharine did not move nor change her position, and her eyes looked straight before her, though it was clear that they saw nothing. “I’m glad it was you who told me,” she said in a low, monotonous tone. “So am I,” answered her friend, sympathetically. “And I’m sure it’s not half as bad as they--” “They all know it,” continued Katharine, not heeding her. “I can see it in their eyes when they look at me.” “Nonsense, Katharine--nobody but Walter and Ham--” “Your husband told my mother, too. She spoke very oddly. He’s been telling every one. Why does he want to make trouble? Does he hate Jack so?” “Hate him? No, indeed! I think he’s rather fond of him--” “It’s a very treacherous sort of fondness, then,” answered Katharine, with a bitter little laugh, and changing her position at last, so that she looked into her friend’s face. “Katharine!” exclaimed Hester. “How can you talk like that--telling me that Walter is treacherous--” “Oh--you mustn’t mind what I say--I’m a little upset--I didn’t mean to hurt you, dear.” Katharine rose, and without another word she left her friend and began to go up the side of the room alone, looking for some one as she went. In a moment one of her numerous young adorers was by her side. He had seen her talking to Mrs. Crowdie, and had watched his opportunity. “No,” said Katharine, absently, and without looking at him. “I don’t want to dance, thanks. I want to find my cousin, Hamilton Bright. Have you seen him?” “Oh--ah--yes!” answered the young man, with an imitation of the advanced English manner of twenty years ago, which seems to have become the ideal of our gilded youth of to-day. “He’s in the corner under the balcony--he’s been--er--rather leathering into Crowdie--you know--er--for talking about Jack Ralston’s last, all over the place--I daresay you’ve heard of it, Miss Lauderdale--being--er--a cousin of your own, too. No end game, that Ralston chap!” Katharine lost her temper suddenly. She stopped and looked the young dandy in the eyes. He never forgot the look of hers, nor the paleness of her lips as she spoke. “You’re rather young to speak like that of older men, Mr. Van De Water,” she said.