“Promise me, Katharine, that if I can ever help you, you will let me.”
She seemed to consider, looking once more into the red of the fire, and decided to refrain from any explanation.
“Yes, I promise that,” she said at length, and Henry felt himself gratified by her complete sincerity, and began to tell her now about the coal-mine, in obedience to her love of facts.
They were, indeed, descending the shaft in a small cage, and could hear the picks of the miners, something like the gnawing of rats, in the earth beneath them, when the door was burst open, without any knocking.
“Well, here you are!” Rodney exclaimed. Both Katharine and Henry turned round very quickly and rather guiltily. Rodney was in evening dress. It was clear that his temper was ruffled.
“That’s where you’ve been all the time,’ he repeated, looking at Katharine.
“I’ve only been here about ten minutes,” she replied.
“My dear Katharine, you left the drawing-room over an hour ago.”
She said nothing.
“Does it very much matter?” Henry asked.
Rodney found it hard to be unreasonable in the presence of another man, and did not answer him.
“They don’t like it,” he said. “It isn’t kind to old people to leave them alone—although I’ve no doubt it’s much more amusing to sit up here and talk to Henry.”
“We were discussing coal-mines,” said Henry urbanely.
“Yes. But we were talking about much more interesting things before that,” said Katharine.
From the apparent determination to hurt him with which she spoke, Henry thought that some sort of explosion on Rodney’s part was about to take place.
“I can quite understand that,” said Rodney, with his little chuckle, leaning over the back of his chair and tap-
