Katherine stole out in the early twilight to her favourite walk. The sea was misty, lost in a great incertitude, a suffusion of blueness upon the verge of the sand below, but all besides mist in which nothing could be distinguished. The horizon was blurred all round, so that no one could see what was there, though overhead there was a bit of sky clear enough. The hour just melting out of day into night, the mild great world of space, in which lay hidden the unseen sea and the sky, were soothing influences, and she felt her involuntary anger, her unwilling disappointment, die away. She forgot that there was any harm done. She only remembered that Stella was here with her children, and that it was so natural to have her in her own home. The long windows of the drawing-room were full of light, so were those of Stella’s bedroom, and a number of occupied rooms shining out into the dimness. It was perhaps _rococo_, as they said, but it was warm and bright. Katherine had got herself very well in hand before she heard a step near her on the gravel, and looking up saw that her brother-in-law was approaching. She had not been much in charity with Sir Charles Somers before, but he had not shown badly in these curious scenes. He had made some surprised exclamations, he had exhibited some kind of interest in herself. Katherine was very lonely, and anxious to think well of someone. She was almost glad to see him, and went towards him with something like pleasure. “I have come to bring you in,” he said; “Stella fears that you will catch cold. She says it is very damp, even on the top of the cliff.” “I don’t think I shall take cold; but I will gladly go in if Stella wants me,” said Katherine; then, as Somers turned with her at the end of her promenade, she said: “The house is _rococo_, I know; but I do hope you will like it a little and sometimes live in it, for the sake of our youth which was passed here.” “You don’t seem to think where you are to live yourself,” he said hurriedly. “I think more of that. We seem to be putting you out of everything. Shouldn’t you like it for yourself? You have more associations with it than anyone I wish you would say you would like to have it--for yourself----” “Oh, no,” said Katherine, “not for the world. I couldn’t keep it up, and I should not like to have it--not for the world.” “I am afraid all this is dreadfully unjust. There should be a--partition, there should be some arrangement. It isn’t fair. You were always with the old man, and nursed him, and took care of him, and all that----” “No,” said Katherine; “my father was a little peculiar--he liked to have the nurse who was paid, as he said, for that. I have not any claim on that ground. And then I have always had my own money, as Stella told you. I am much obliged to you, but you really do not need to trouble yourself about me.”