"I know," said Katharine, rousing herself and looking penitent. "I am so sorry! I am made that way, I think. It used to annoy Ted. I think it is because I never had any fun at home, or any one to play with, except Ted. And then I began to earn my living, and so I never had time to be frivolous at all. I suppose I am too old to begin, now." "Much too old," smiled Paul. A knock came at the outer door. Paul put her away from him almost roughly, and glanced with a disturbed look round the room. "You had better stay here," he said shortly, "and keep quiet till I come back." "Who is it?" asked Katharine, in some bewilderment. "I don't know. You don't understand," was all he said; and he went out and spoke for a few minutes to a man on the landing. "It was about a brief," he said on his return. He still frowned a little, and she felt, regretfully, that his genial mood had fled. "Was that all? Wouldn't he come in?" she asked. Paul looked at her incredulously. "It wasn't likely that I should ask him," he said, turning his back to her, and rummaging among the papers on his desk. The colour came into her face, and she was conscious of having said something tactless, without exactly knowing what. "Shall I go away again?" she asked slowly. The joy seemed suddenly to have been taken out of her half-term holiday. "You see, it is not for myself that I mind," he tried to explain quietly; "but if you were to be seen in here alone, it would do for your reputation at once, don't you see?" Katharine looked as though she did not see. "But, surely, there is no harm in my coming here?" she protested. "Of course not; no harm at all. It isn't that," said Paul hastily. "Then," said Katharine, "if there is no harm in it, why should I not come? It is all rubbish, isn't it? I won't come any more if it bothers you; but that is another matter." "My dear child, do be reasonable! It is not a question of my feelings at all. I like you to come, but I don't want other people to know that you do, because of what they might say. It is for your sake entirely that I wish you to be careful. That is why I don't come to see you at your place. Do you see now?" Katharine shook her head. "It is either wrong, or it isn't wrong," she said obstinately. "I never dreamed that there could be any harm in my coming to see you, or I should not have come. And it was so pleasant, and you have always been so nice to me. Why did you not tell me before? I don't see how it can be wrong, and yet it can't be right, if I have got to pretend to other people that I don't come. I hate hiding things; I don't like the feel of it. I wish I could understand what you mean." "It is quite easy to understand," said Paul, beginning to realise that his case, as stated baldly by Katharine, was a very lame one. "It is not wrong, as far as you and I are concerned; but it is a hell of a world, and people will talk."