from here she went on with a certain
terrifying ability, peculiarly her own, to come directly to a point.

"Oh," she said, with a gesture including them both, "you've done what I
asked you not to do, Dermott!" she said. "You've claimed a yet unproven
thing. I'm tired of the whole of it. It is better that we three should
understand one another altogether and not go talking by twos," and she
faced Dermott as she turned. "You may prove everything, and I'll never
believe a word of it! Give me Ravenel, and I'll return it to those to
whom it belongs. It's his," indicating Frank, "and his mother's, and
they shall keep it, no matter what you prove! As for me!" she laughed,
giving herself a shake as a bird does. "Hark!" she cried, raising one
finger. Softly, as a bird calls to the purpling east at dawn, she took a
note, listening intently, going up, up, up, till the tone, a mere thread
of gladness, reached high E, where it swelled, rounder and fuller, until
it seemed to fill all space, descending in a sparkling shower of
chromatics to lower G.

"Did you mark that?" she cried, in a defiant bit of appreciation of
herself. "What do I need with money? I can go out on the streets and
come back with hands full." And before they could answer she had
disappeared through one of the long windows of the piazza.

"And what do you think of that, now?" demanded Dermott of Frank, with a
touch of the brogue, as they stood together in some bewilderment,
looking after her.

XXV

KATRINE IN NEW YORK

The following morning, in a drizzling rain and wind from the east,
Dermott McDermott stood beside Katrine at the station, arranging for her
comfort, directing her maid, and wiring Nora in New York, lest she
should be unprepared for this hastily determined return to the city.

"I was sorry for Ravenel last night, Katrine," he said, with an earnest
sympathy in his tone. "I think I have never known a man who drew me to
him less; but that has nothing to do with the matter. I was sorry for
him," he repeated. "Isn't it a dreadful performance, this tragedy of
life?" he demanded, looking down at her intently, unmindful of noise of
luggage or the shrill voices of the passers to and fro. "But the thing
to do," he cried, straightening himself and raising his chest, "is to
show a brave front always! Never let the world know you're downed in
anything. So carry all off with a laugh and a song. Plant flowers on
the graves, flowers for the world to s