What was the dear old beggar's idea, throwing such fireworks round at breakfast?
He stole a glance at Kitty to see how she was taking it--and caught her stealing a glance at him.

Instantly both switched back to Cutty.

Shortly the little comedy was repeated because neither could resist the invisible force of some half-conscious inquiry.

Third time, they smiled unembarrassedly.
Mind you, they were both hanging upon Cutty's words; only their eyes were like little children at church, restless.

It was spring.
Without being exactly conscious of what he was doing, Hawksley began to dress Kitty--that is, he visualized her in ball gowns, in sports, in furs.