Crawford could contain her curiosity no longer.
"Kitty Killigrew, what have you been doing?"
"Doing?"
"Well, going to do?"--shrewdly.
Kitty gazed at her friend in pained surprise, her blue eyes as innocent
as the sea--and as full of hidden mysterious things. "Good gracious!
can't a person be happy and smile?"
"Happy I have no doubt you are; but I've studied that smile of yours
too closely not to be alarmed by it."
"Well, what does it say?"
"Mischief."
Kitty did not reply to this, but continued smiling--at space this time.
On the ship crossing to Naples in February their chairs on deck had
been together; they had become acquainted, and this acquaintance had
now ripened into one of those intimate friendships which are really
sounder and more lasting than those formed in youth. Crawford had
heard of Killigrew as a great and prosperous merchant, and Killigrew
had heard of Crawford as a millionaire whose name was very rarely
mentioned in the society pages of the Sunday newspapers. Men recognize
men at once; it doesn't take much digging.
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