the street and walked in the direction of the bus station on their way home to the rented apartment they shared. The weather was gray and miserable and before long the skies darkened and the rain poured down. As Kate struggled to open a recalcitrant umbrella, they took shelter under the marquee of the nearest store.
“Don't get me wrong,” said Emma as she sympathetically watched her sister's struggle, “but I have absolutely no desire to eat lettuce salad for the fifth time this week. Why don't we treat ourselves to lunch at a nice restaurant?”
The rebellious umbrella slipped from Kate's hands. A tight budget prevented her from eating out very often and, truth to tell, she usually made do with a salad or sandwich that she prepared at home.
“Why not indeed?” She looked across the street and Emma followed her glance. Directly across was Mrs. Browning's restaurant. The eating establishment was well known throughout Oxford and the reputation of the food was as high as the prices. Kate had eaten there only once.
“I'm not properly dressed,” she demurred.
“Don't be silly. It’s not a formal dinner and we can order a business lunch at a reasonable price.”
“Alright,” Kate capitulated. Her mood was buoyant; she had reasons enough to celebrate. That evening she was to speak at the graduation exercises of Trinity College, representing the junior staff. True, she was not invited to the festive dinner that Sir Bruton, Chancellor of the university, was to give for the distinguished guests and wealthy contributors who were in town for the ceremonies, but she had received an official invitation to the gala ball that was to be held later in the evening at one of the more splendid houses in the area. She well knew the invitation was an unusual gesture, most assuredly due to the affection and esteem Sir Bruton felt for both her father and her. In the early hours of that day, at four in the morning, she had finished the first draft of her book. She was filled with a profound sense of satisfaction at her achievements during the past year. Yes, she certainly deserved to relax and pamper herself over a good meal and a glass of wine in the company of Emma.
Kate and Emma crossed the street and entered the restaurant. The head waiter cast a critical eye at Kate but softened at the sight of Emma's elegant figure and led them to a corner table by a window at the front of the restaurant. Emma excused herself and went to freshen up. Kate removed her hat and her lovely hair tumbled unconfined about her shoulders. She hung up her coat and leaned back with a contented sigh on the comfortable chair and studied the deluge outside when she heard John Bayhem's voice behind her. To Kate's surprise he was speaking about her and she, with no compunction and with a clear conscience, eavesdropped on the conversation behind the partition separating their tables.
“You must admit, Matthew, her sister is also very beautiful.”
“Spare me, John. The only beautiful woman I noticed was your Emma. Dr. Evans, with all due respect, strikes me as no more than tolerable, although I admit it was hard to distinguish much of her in those shapeless clothes and that ridiculous hat. I can't see myself being even remotely attracted to her.”
Kate clapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt not to betray her presence. What nerve! She restrained herself from answering him with a few choice words of her own. His low opinion of her looks and her style didn't bother her in the least, and if he was to be her host for a whole weekend there was no point in going head to head with him now. To her relief she heard the waiter give them their bill. They rose to leave at just the moment that Emma returned and almost bumped into them.
“John, Matthew, how nice to see you so soon again. Won't you join us for lunch?” she asked in her pleasant voice.
Kate was sure Bayhem was on the verge of accepting and