sighed. "Clothes are no good to me. I was born awkward. It's a pity, because I love them."
"I love them too," said Katherine, "but it has not been much use my loving them up to now. Do you think this is nice?"
She and Lenox discussed several models with artistic fervour.
"I like you," said Lenox suddenly. "I came up to warn you not to be taken in by Mother, but I think now that there is no need to do that. You are frightfully sincere and upright and all those queer things, but you are not a fool. Oh hell! what is it now?"
Lady Tamplin's voice was calling plaintively from the hall;
"Lenox, Derek has just rung up. He wants to come to dinner to-night. Will it be all right? I mean, we haven’t got anything awkward, like quails, have we?"
Lenox reassured her and came back into Katherine's room. Her face looked brighter and less sullen.
"I'm glad old Derek is coming," she said; "you'll like him."
"Who is Derek?"
"He is Lord Leconbury's son, married a rich American woman. Women are simply potty about him."
"Why?"
"Oh, the usual reason—very good-looking and a regular bad lot. Every one goes off their head about him."
"Do you?"
"Sometimes I do," said Lenox, "and sometimes I think I would like to marry a nice curate and live in the country and grow things in frames." She paused a
