An uneasy consciousness of Katherine crossed his mind once and again with a dull ache of self-reproach, all the more insistent from his realization that its cause was not so much the infidelity to Katherine as that Hilda would think him a sorry villain. Katherine seemed to be dancing and enjoying herself. She knew that his energy this evening was on Hilda's account; he had claimed the responsibility for Hilda. Katherine would not consider herself neglected, of that Peter felt sure, relying, with perhaps a display of the dulness she had discovered in him, upon her confidence and common sense. Outwardly, at least, he would never betray that confidence; there was some rather dislocated consolation in that. Hilda was a little breathless when he came to claim her for the second cluster of waltzes. It was near the end of the evening. "I have been dancing _steadily_," she announced, "and twice down to supper! Did you try any of the narrow little sandwiches? So good!" "And you still don't grudge me my waltzes?" "I like yours _best_!" she said, smiling at him as she laid her hand on his shoulder. They took a few turns around the room and then Hilda owned that she was a little tired. They sat down again on the sofa. "Hilda!" said Odd suddenly, "will you think me very rude if I ask you why you refused Allan Hope?" Hilda turned a startled glance upon him. "No; perhaps not," she answered, though the voice was rather frigid. "You don't think I have a right to ask, do you?" "Well, the answer is so evident." "Is it?" Hilda had looked away at the dancers; she turned her head now half unwillingly and glanced at him, smiling. "I would not have refused him if I had loved him, would I? You know that. It doesn't seem quite fair, quite kind, to talk of, does it?" "Not to me even? I have been interested in it for a long time. Katherine told me, and Mary." "I don't know why they should have been so sure," said Hilda, with some hardness of tone. "I never encouraged him. I avoided him." She looked at Odd again. "But I am not angry with you; if any one has a right, you have." "Thanks; thanks, dear. You understand, you know my interest, my anxiety. It seemed so--happy for both. And you care for no one else?" "No one else." Hilda's eyes rested on his with clear sincerity. "Don't you ever intend to marry, Hilda?" Odd was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, and looking at the floor. There was certainly a tension in his voice, and he felt that Hilda was scanning him with some wonder. "Does a refusal to take one person imply that? I have made no vows." "I don't see--" Odd paused; "I don't see why you shouldn't care for Hope." "Are you going to plead his cause?" she asked lightly. "Would it not be for your happiness?" Odd sat upright now, putting on his eyeglasses and looking at her with a certain air of resolution. "I don't love him." Hilda returned the look sweetly and frankly.