the least romantic about the other. That
may be partly, no doubt, because we've known each other so long; but
I'm inclined to think there's more in it than that. There's something
temperamental. I think you're a trifle cold, and I suspect I'm a trifle
self-absorbed. If that were so it goes a long way to explaining our
odd lack of illusion about each other. I'm not saying that the most
satisfactory marriages aren't founded upon this sort of understanding.
But certainly it struck me as odd this morning, when Wilson told me,
how little upset I felt. By the way, you're sure we haven't committed
ourselves to that house?"

"I've kept the letters, and I'll go through them to-morrow; but I'm
certain we're on the safe side."

"Thanks. As to the psychological problem," he continued, as if the
question interested him in a detached way, "there's no doubt, I think,
that either of us is capable of feeling what, for reasons of simplicity,
I call romance for a third person--at least, I've little doubt in my own
case."

It was, perhaps, the first time in all her knowledge of him that
Katharine had known William enter thus deliberately and without sign of
emotion upon a statement of his own feelings. He was wont to discourage
such intimate discussions by a little laugh or turn of the conversation,
as much as to say that men, or men of the world, find such topics
a little silly, or in doubtful taste. His obvious wish to explain
something puzzled her, interested her, and neutralized the wound to her
vanity. For some reason, too, she felt more at ease with him than usual;
or her ease was more the ease of equality--she could not stop to think
of that at the moment though. His remarks interested her too much for
the light that they threw upon certain problems of her own.

"What is this romance?" she mused.

"Ah, that's the question. I've never come across a definition that
satisfied me, though there are some very good ones"--he glanced in the
direction of his books.

"It's not altogether knowing the other person, perhaps--it's ignorance,"
she hazarded.

"Some authorities say it's a question of distance--romance in
literature, that is--"

"Possibly, in the case of art. But in the case of people it may be--"
she hesitated.

"Have you no personal experience of it?" he asked, letting his eyes rest
upon her swiftly for a moment.

"I believe it's influenced me enormously," she said, in the tone of one
absorbed by the possibilities of