Part 27 (2/2)

”I didn't go about with him much,” said Katharine, making a feeble attempt to justify herself. ”He didn't care about it; he was always so particular not to give people anything to talk about. He didn't care for himself, he said; it was only for me. So I used to go to his chambers instead. I couldn't be more careful than that, could I? And I should have gone in the daytime, if I had had more time; but there was all my work to get through,--so what else could I do? There wasn't any harm in it.”

She could not see her companion's face, and was so full of her own reflections that she failed to notice her silence. Polly did not even sniff.

”Then there's Ted,” Katharine continued presently. ”Even Ted was strange to-night; and Ted has never been like that to me before. I can't think what has come over everybody. What have I done to deserve it all?”

”Mercy me!” cried Polly suddenly. ”Is there another of them? Who on earth is Ted?”

”Ted? Why, you must have seen him in the hall sometimes; he often comes to take me out. I have known him all my life; he is only a little older than I am, and I am devoted to him. I would not quarrel with Ted for anything in the whole world; it would be like quarrelling with myself. And to-night I ran into him, just as I came out of--of the other one's chambers; and I was so glad to see him, because Ted is always so sweet to me when I am in trouble; and--and Ted was quite funny, and he wouldn't speak to me at all, and he just put me into a hansom and left me to come home alone. I can't think why he behaved so oddly. I know he used not to get on with--with the other one, and that is why I never told him I had met him again up here in London; and I suppose he caught sight of him to-night in the doorway,--there was a lamp just above,--but still, he need not have been hurt until he had heard my explanation, need he? Why has every one turned against me at once?”

Polly remained silent no longer. She turned and stared at the prostrate figure on the bed, with all the power of her small, watery blue eyes.

”I really think you beat everything I ever knew,” she exclaimed.

”What?” said Katharine, who had turned her face to the wall, and was occupied in meditating miserably on the problem of her existence.

”What do you mean?”

Polly lost all control over herself.

”Do you mean to tell me that you never saw any harm in all this?” she cried emphatically. ”Do you really mean to say that you have been carrying on anyhow with two men at once, going to their chambers late at night, and letting yourself be seen in public with them, without knowing that it was unusual? Didn't you ever see the danger in it? You are either the biggest fool in creation or the biggest humbug! One man at a time would be bad enough; but two! My eye!”

”But--there wasn't any harm,” pleaded Katharine. ”Why does no one understand? It seemed quite natural to me. They were so different, and I liked them in such opposite ways, don't you see? I have known Ted all my life; he is a dear boy, and that is all. But Paul is clever and strong; he is a man, and he knows about things. And I never knew it was wrong; I didn't _feel_ wicked, somehow. I wonder if that was what Paul was thinking, when he said I was a prig? Oh, dear! oh, dear!

I have never been so wretched in my whole life!”

”Did he say that about you? Well, I don't wonder.”

Katharine looked hopelessly at her unsympathetic profile, with the snub nose and the small chin, and the hair twisted up into tight plaits and the ends tied with white tape; and her eyes wandered down the red flannel dressing-gown to the large slippered feet that emerged from beneath it.

”You called me a prig, too,” she said, humbly. ”I overheard you.”

”I thought so then,” said Polly gruffly.

”Do you think so now? Is it true? Am I a prig?” She awaited the answer anxiously. Polly gave her another pitiless stare.

”I'm bothered if I know,” she said. ”But if you're not, you ought to be in the nursery. Only don't go telling people the things you've been telling me to-night, or you might get yourself into worse trouble. You'd better go to sleep now, and leave it till to-morrow. My conscience! you'd make some people sit up, you would!”

Katharine felt she had endured as much contempt as she could bear that evening; but she made a last attempt to recover some of her self-respect.

”I wish you would tell me why it is wrong to do things that are not really wrong in themselves, just because people say they are wrong?”

she asked, rather sleepily.

”Because people can make it so jolly unpleasant for you if you don't agree with them,” said Polly bluntly. ”And if you fancy you're going to alter all that, you must make up your mind to be called a prig. You can't have a good time and defy convention as you've been doing, and then expect to get off scot free without being called a prig; it isn't likely. Most people are content to take things as they are; it's a jolly sight more comfortable, and it's good enough for them.

Good-night.”

”I sha'n't sleep,” Katharine called after her. And Polly sniffed.

And the next thing that Katharine remembered was being awakened by her in the early morning, and told in a gruff voice that she might sit with Phyllis if she liked, until some one came to relieve her.

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