She moved toward the door, with the nervous haste of a person unaccustomed
to decisive action. But Kate sprang before her.

"No, no; don't ask him! I implore you not to ask him," she cried.

Mrs. Peyton turned on her with sudden authority of voice and gesture. "Do
I understand you?" she said. "You admit that you have a reason for putting
off your marriage, and yet you forbid me--me, Denis's mother--to ask him
what it is? My poor child, I needn't ask, for I know already. If he has
offended you, and you refuse him the chance to defend himself, I needn't
look farther for your reason: it is simply that you have ceased to love
him."

Kate fell back from the door which she had instinctively barricaded.

"Perhaps that is it," she murmured, letting Mrs. Peyton pass.

* * * * *

Mr. Orme's returning carriage-wheels crossed Mrs. Peyton's indignant
flight; and an hour later Kate, in the bland candle-light of the
dinner-hour, sat listening with practised fortitude to her father's
comments on the venison.

She had wondered, as she awaited him in the drawing-room, if he would
notice any change in her appearance. It seemed to her that the flagellation
of her thoughts must have left visible traces. But Mr. Orme was not a man
of subtle perceptions, save where his personal comfort was affected: though
his egoism was clothed in the finest feelers, he did not suspect a similar