"And yet, who knows? With les femmes, they have so many ways of concealing what they feel—and heartiness is perhaps as good a way as any other."
He sighed.
"I don’t see" began Katherine.
He interrupted her.
"You do not see why I am being so impertinent, Mademoiselle? I am an old man, and now and then—not very often—I come across some one whose welfare is dear to me. We are friends, Mademoiselle. You have said so yourself. And it is just this—I should like to see you happy."
Katherine stared very straight in front of her. She had a cretonne sunshade with her, and with its point she traced little designs in the gravel at her feet.
"I have asked you a question about Major Knighton, now I will ask you another. Do you like Mr. Derek Kettering?"
"I hardly know him," said Katherine.
"That is not an answer, that."
"I think it is."
He looked at her, struck by something in her tone. Then he nodded his head gravely and slowly.
"Perhaps you are right, Mademoiselle. See you, I who speak to you have seen much of the world, and I know that there are two things which are true. A good man may be ruined by his love for a bad woman—but the other way holds good also. A bad man may equally be ruined by his love for a good woman."
Katherine looked up sharply.
"When you say ruined"
