hospital, doing God knows what for all sorts of people, and Miss Harriet
making a suit like that and asking a hundred dollars for it, and that
tony that a person doesn't dare to speak to her when she's in the
dining-room. And your poor ma...well, it's all in a lifetime! No; Mr.
K.'s not here. He and Mrs. Howe are gallivanting around together."

"Katie!"

"Well, that's what I call it. I'm not blind. Don't I hear her dressing
up about four o'clock every afternoon, and, when she's all ready,
sittin' in the parlor with the door open, and a book on her knee, as if
she'd been reading all afternoon? If he doesn't stop, she's at the foot
of the stairs, calling up to him. 'K.,' she says, 'K., I'm waiting to
ask you something!' or, 'K., wouldn't you like a cup of tea?' She's
always feedin' him tea and cake, so that when he comes to table he won't
eat honest victuals."

Sidney had paused with one glove half off. Katie's tone carried
conviction. Was life making another of its queer errors, and were
Christine and K. in love with each other? K. had always been HER
friend, HER confidant. To give him up to Christine--she shook herself
impatiently. What had come over her? Why not be glad that he had some
sort of companionship?

She went upstairs to the room that had been her mother's, and took off
her hat. She wanted to be alone, to realize what had happened to
her. She did not belong to herself any more. It gave her an odd, lost
feeling. She was going to be married--not very soon, but ultimately. A
year ago her half promise to Joe had gratified her sense of romance. She
was loved, and she had thrilled to it.

But this was different. Marriage, that had been but a vision then,
loomed large, almost menacing. She had learned the law of compensation:
that for every joy one pays in suffering. Women who married went down
into the valley of death for their children. One must love and be loved
very tenderly to pay for that. The scale must balance.

And there were other things. Women grew old, and age was not always
lovely. This very maternity--was it not fatal to beauty? Visions of
child-bearing women in the hospitals, with sagging breasts and relaxed
bodies, came to her. That was a part of the price.

Harriet was stirring, across the hall. Sidney could hear her moving
about with flat, inelastic steps.

That was the alternative. One married, happily or not as the case might
be, and took the risk. Or one stayed single, like Harriet, gr