On another occasion they were walking in the park.
‘I never would have believed, John, that you would care to go out for a walk with me.’
‘And why, Kitty?’
Kitty laughed—her short, sudden laugh was strange and sweet, and
John’s heart was beating.
‘Well,’ she said, without the faintest hesitation or shyness, ‘we always thought you hated girls. I know I used to tease you when you came home for the first time, when you used to think of nothing but the Latin authors.’
‘What do you mean?’
Kitty laughed again.
‘You promise not to tell?’
‘I promise.’
This was their first confidence.
‘You told your mother when I came, when you were sitting by the fire reading, that the flutter of my skirts disturbed you.’
‘No, Kitty; I’m sure you never disturbed me, or at least for a long time. I wish
