“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 someone 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.