Dear old Bob! If he does get them he will be a Blue and a half, he says.

He writes so happily, Duncan! I have so much to be thankful for--to thank you for!" Yes, Catherine was good to look at; there was no doubt of it; and this time she was not wearing any hat.

Discoursing of the lad, she was animated, eager, for once as exclamatory as her pen, with light and life in every look of the thin intellectual face, in every glance of the large, intellectual eyes, and in every intonation of the keen dry voice.
A sweet woman; a young woman; a woman with a full heart of love and sympathy and tenderness--for Bob! Yet, when she thanked me at the end, either upon an impulse, or because she thought she must, her eyes fell, and again I detected that slight embarrassment which was none the less a revelation, to me, in Catherine Evers, of all women in the world.
"We won't speak of that," I said, "if you don't mind.

I am not proud of it." Catherine scanned me more narrowly.

I knew her better with that look.
"Then tell me about yourself, and do sit down," she said, drawing a chair near the fire, but sitting on the other side of it herself.