“What about the stars?” he asked. “I understand that you rule your life by the stars?”
She let this pass, either because she did not attend to it, or because the tone was not to her liking.
Once more she paused, and then she inquired:
“But do you always understand why you do everything? Ought one to understand? People like my mother understand,” she reflected. “Now I must go down to them, I suppose, and see what’s happening.”
“What could be happening?” Henry protested.
“Oh, they may want to settle something,” she replied vaguely, putting her feet on the ground, resting her chin on her hands, and looking out of her large dark eyes contemplatively at the fire.
“And then there’s William,” she added, as if by an afterthought.
Henry very nearly laughed, but restrained himself.
“Do they know what coals are made of, Henry?” she asked, a moment later.
“Mares’ tails, I believe,” he hazarded.
“Have you ever been down a coal-mine?” she went on.
“Don’t let’s talk about coal-mines, Katharine,” he protested. “We shall probably never see each other again. When you’re married———”
Tremendously to his surprise, he saw the tears stand in her eyes.
“Why do you all tease me?” she said. “It isn’t kind.”
Henry could not pretend that he was altogether ignorant of her meaning, though, certainly, he had never guessed that she minded the teasing. But before he knew what to say, her eyes were clear again, and the sudden crack in the surface was almost filled up.
“Things aren’t easy, anyhow,” she stated.
Obeying an impulse of genuine affection, Henry spoke.
