So she allowed Hugo a very long hand-clasp when he said good-bye, and held a whispered consultation with him at the door in a confidential manner, which put Rupert very much out of temper. Then she came back to the drawing-room fire, laughing a little, with an air of pretty triumph. Rupert was leaning against the mantelpiece; no one else was in the room. Kitty knelt down on the rug, and warmed her hands at the fire. "We have such a delightful secret, Hugo and I," she said, brightly. "You would never guess what it was. Shall I tell it to you?" "No," he answered, shortly. "No?" She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment, and then shrugged her shoulders. "You are not very polite to me, Mr. Vivian!" she said, half-playfully, half-pettishly. "I do not wish to share any secret that you and Mr. Hugo Luttrell may have between you," said Rupert, with emphasis. Kitty's face changed a little. "Don't you like him?" she said, in a rather timid voice. "Before I answer I should like to know whether you are engaged to marry him," said Mr. Vivian. "Certainly not. I never dreamt of such a thing. You ought not to ask such a question," said Kitty, turning scarlet. "I suppose I ought not. I beg your pardon. But I thought it was the case." "Why should you think so?" said Kitty, turning her face away from him. "You would have heard about it, you know--and besides--nobody ever thought of such a thing." "Excuse me: Mr. Luttrell seems to have thought of it," said Rupert, with rather an angry laugh. "What Mr. Luttrell thinks of is no business of yours," said Kitty. "You cannot deny it then!" exclaimed Vivian, with a mixture of bitterness and sarcastic triumph in his tone. She made no answer. He could not see her face, but the way in which she was twisting her fingers together spoke of some agitation. He tried to master himself; but he was under the empire of an emotion of which he himself had not exactly grasped the meaning nor estimated the power. He walked to the window and back again somewhat uncertainly; then paused at about two yards' distance from her kneeling figure, and addressed her in a voice which he kept carefully free from any trace of excitement. "I have no right to speak, I know," he said, "and, if I were not so much older than yourself, or if I had not promised to be your friend, Kitty, I would keep silence. I want you to be on your guard with that man. He is not the sort of man that you ought to encourage, or whom you would find any happiness in loving." "I thought it was not considered generous for one man to blacken another's character behind his back," said Kitty, quickly. "Well, you are right, it is not. If I had put myself into rivalry with Hugo Luttrell, of course, I should have to hold my tongue. But as I am only an outsider--an old friend who takes a kindly interest in the child that he has seen grow up--I think I am justified in saying, Kitty, that I do not consider young Luttrell worthy of you."