"Practically. January and February in London are horrible."
"I have always lived in the country. They are not very inspiring months there either. Mostly mud."
"What made you suddenly decide to travel?"
"Money," said Katherine. "For ten years I have been a paid companion with just enough money of my own to buy myself strong country shoes; now I have been left what seems to me a fortune, though I dare say it would not seem so to you."
"Now I wonder why you say that―that it would not seem so to me."
Katherine laughed. "I don't really know. I suppose one forms impressions without thinking of it. I put you down in my own mind as one of the very rich of the earth. It was just an impression. I dare say I am wrong."
"No," said Ruth, "you are not wrong." She had suddenly become very grave. "I wish you would tell me what other impressions you formed about me?"
"I——"
Ruth swept on disregarding the other's embarrassment.
"Oh, please, don't be conventional. I want to know. As we left Victoria I looked across at you, and I had the sort of feeling that you—well, understood what was going on in my mind."
"I can assure you I am not a mind reader," said Katherine, smiling.
"No; but will you tell me, please, just what you thought." Ruth's eagerness was so intense and so sincere that she carried her point.
