"And then," Odd continued, ignoring her comment in a way most irritating to Katherine's smarting susceptibility, "you might have gone with her now and again to these houses where she teaches. You would have stood for protection. You would have seen for yourself if, in this drudgery, there lurked any unpleasantness, any danger. A girl of her extreme beauty is--exposed to insult." Katherine gave him a stare of frank astonishment. "Oh, you must not give way to unpleasant romancing of that sort! Things like that only happen in novels of the silliest sort--even to beauties! And Hilda would have told _me_. She tells me _everything_. Really, Peter, she must have given you a wrong impression; she enjoys her life!" "So she tried to convince me," said Odd, with a good deal of sharpness; "there was no hint of complaint, regret, reproach, in Hilda's recountal; don't imagine it, Katherine." Katherine was telling herself that never in all her life had she experienced so many rebuffs. She contemplated her own good temper with some amazement; she also wondered how long it would last. By this time they were half-way down the Avenue du Bois; the day was fine and clear, and the wintry trees were sharply definite against the sky. "I have never even seen her in a well-made gown," said Odd. "Hilda scorns the fashion-plate garment, as I do. We are both original in that respect." "Your originality takes different forms." "Because it must adapt itself to different conditions, Peter. I won't be scolded about my dresses. Men like you imagine that, because a woman looks well, she must spend a lot. It isn't so with me. My dresses last forever, and, to go into details, Hilda by no means clothes me. Papa has money--now and then. Even Hilda could not support the family, and her money mainly goes for mamma's books and oysters and hot-house grapes. If she will not spend it on herself, and if, now and then, I accept some of it, I cannot consent to feel unduly humiliated." There was a decisiveness in Katherine's tone that warned Peter to self-control. Indeed the situation had been created for her. She had owned up frankly to her distaste for it, her realization of its wrong. "I am not going to ask undue humiliation of you, my dear Katherine. Don't think me such a priggish brute; but I am going to ask you to help me to put an end to this." Katherine's smiles had returned. "Allan Hope will." Peter walked on, looking gloomy. "You won't realize that Hilda's life is the one that gives her the greatest enjoyment. I have always envied Hilda till _you_ came; and even now"--Katherine's smile was playful--"Allan Hope is very nice! Take patience, Peter, till Wednesday." "Yes; we must wait." "I have waited for so long! Hilda could not have minded what you call the 'drudgery.' She had only to lift her finger to end it." "Hilda would not be the girl to lift her finger."