is, Katherine—I mean, what serious subject shall we discuss?"
"Some other time."
"No—now. I insist on it. Otherwise I will know I am unforgiven."
"There is nothing to forgive. I merely wanted to tell you something more than you know about my own history."
"I know more now than that man in the story."
"He did not object to the knowledge, you know. He objected to receiving it from a third person. Now I am not a third person, am I?"
"Indeed, you are not. You are first person singular—at present—the first person to me at least. There, I am afraid I have dropped into flippancy again."
"That is not flippancy. That is very nice."
The interval shall be unreported.
At last Katherine said quietly, "My mother came from this part of England."
"Ah! That is why you wanted to come here."
"That is why I wanted to come here. She was her father's only daughter, and, strange to say, he was very fond of her, and proud of her."
"Why strange?"
"Strange from his action for years after. She married against his will. He never forgave her.
