Paul glanced down at her. "Yes," he answered quietly. They walked on in silence for a few moments. Paul seemed tacitly to have given up the idea of visiting any more of the stricken cottages. They were going toward the long old house, which was called the castle more by courtesy than by right. "How long are you going to stay in Osterno?" asked Catrina at length. "About a fortnight; I cannot stay longer. I am going to be married." Catrina stopped dead. She stood for a moment looking at the ground with a sort of wonder in her eyes, not pleasant to see. It was the look of one who, having fallen from a great height, is not quite sure whether it means death or not. Then she walked on. "I congratulate you," she said. "I only hope she will make you happy. She is--beautiful, I suppose?" "Yes," answered Paul simply. The girl nodded her head. "What is her name?" "Etta Sydney Bamborough." Catrina had evidently never heard the name before. It conveyed nothing to her. Womanlike, she went back to her first question. "What is she like?" Paul hesitated. "Tall, I suppose?" suggested the stunted woman at his side. "Yes." "And graceful?" "Yes." "Has she--pretty hair?" asked Catrina. "I think so--yes." "You are not observant," said the girl in a singularly even and emotionless voice. "Perhaps you never noticed." "Not particularly," answered Paul. The girl raised her face. There was a painful smile twisting her lips. The moonlight fell upon her; the deep shadows beneath the eyes made her face wear a grin. Some have seen such a grin on the face of a drowning man--a sight not to be forgotten. "Where does she live?" asked Catrina. She was unaware of the thought of murder that was in her own heart. Nevertheless, the desire--indefinite, shapeless--was there to kill this woman, who was tall and beautiful, whom Paul Alexis loved.