He continued his explanation, as though he had decided to make it beforehand, and did not mean to be deterred by her unwillingness to hear it. "Under the circumstances," he said gravely, "you will see that it would be wiser for you not to come here again." Katharine did not see, and she showed it in her face. "If I were married," he continued, in a lighter tone, "it would be different; but there are many reasons which have made it impossible for me to marry, and there are still more now, which will prevent my ever doing so. And since I am a bachelor, it is obviously better for you to keep away." In spite of his assumed carelessness, Katharine felt instinctively that it was to hear this that he had asked her to come and see him to-day. And, like many another woman who has to face as embarrassing a disclosure from a man, her great desire at the moment was to conceal that she had ever entertained the idea of his marrying her at all. "But does it matter, so long as I don't mind?" she asked, pulling on her gloves for the sake of the occupation. He bent down to button them for her, and their eyes met. "Let me come again," she said impulsively. "You know I think propriety is all rubbish. Besides, I want to come. We can go on being friends, can't we? _I_ don't care what other people think!" "I only care for your sake, not for my own. No, child, it is safer not; you are not the sort. Don't think any more about it. I am old enough to be your father, and have seen more of the world than you. I would not allow you, if you did wish it." "It is all rubbish," repeated Katharine. "Why am I not the sort? I don't understand; I am tired of being told that. If that is all, I--I wish I were!" Paul half wished it too, as she stood there in the firelight, with the glow all over her face and hair; but he laughed away the thought. "You are an absurd child; you don't know what you are saying. It is lucky there is no one else to hear you. There, go away, and make it up with young Morton! Oh, no, I know nothing whatever about it, I swear I don't; but he won't do you any harm, and he isn't old, and worn out, and--" "Don't, please don't!" said Katharine, imploringly. "Ted is only like my brother; I love him, but it is altogether different. Mayn't I really see you any more?" She was threatening to become unpleasantly serious, and Paul switched on the electric light and fetched his coat hastily. "Why, surely, lots of times, I expect. What a desperately solemn person you are! I believe you work too hard, don't you? Now, I am not going to let you walk to the station alone, so come along." And Katharine realised, with a hot blush, that she had made a second blunder. CHAPTER VIII