ent his deepest feelings. He felt
a little contempt for himself at having spoken thus; but somehow he had
been forced into speech.

"Do sit down," said Mary suddenly. "You make me so--" She spoke with
unusual irritability, and Ralph, noticing it with surprise, sat down at
once.

"You haven't told me her name--you'd rather not, I suppose?"

"Her name? Katharine Hilbery."

"But she's engaged--"

"To Rodney. They're to be married in September."

"I see," said Mary. But in truth the calm of his manner, now that he was
sitting down once more, wrapt her in the presence of something which she
felt to be so strong, so mysterious, so incalculable, that she scarcely
dared to attempt to intercept it by any word or question that she was
able to frame. She looked at Ralph blankly, with a kind of awe in her
face, her lips slightly parted, and her brows raised. He was apparently
quite unconscious of her gaze. Then, as if she could look no longer, she
leant back in her chair, and half closed her eyes. The distance between
them hurt her terribly; one thing after another came into her mind,
tempting her to assail Ralph with questions, to force him to confide
in her, and to enjoy once more his intimacy. But she rejected every
impulse, for she could not speak without doing violence to some reserve
which had grown between them, putting them a little far from each other,
so that he seemed to her dignified and remote, like a person she no
longer knew well.

"Is there anything that I could do for you?" she asked gently, and even
with courtesy, at length.

"You could see her--no, that's not what I want; you mustn't bother about
me, Mary." He, too, spoke very gently.

"I'm afraid no third person can do anything to help," she added.

"No," he shook his head. "Katharine was saying to-day how lonely we
are." She saw the effort with which he spoke Katharine's name, and
believed that he forced himself to make amends now for his concealment
in the past. At any rate, she was conscious of no anger against him; but
rather of a deep pity for one condemned to suffer as she had suffered.
But in the case of Katharine it was different; she was indignant with
Katharine.

"There's always work," she said, a little aggressively.

Ralph moved directly.

"Do you want to be working now?" he asked.

"No, no. It's Sunday," she replied. "I was thinking of Katharine. She
doesn't understand about work. She's never had to. She doesn't know what
work is.