liam, the sight of you and
Cassandra together made me jealous, and I couldn't control myself. I
laughed at you, I know."

"You jealous!" William exclaimed. "I assure you, Katharine, you've not
the slightest reason to be jealous. Cassandra dislikes me, so far as she
feels about me at all. I was foolish enough to try to explain the nature
of our relationship. I couldn't resist telling her what I supposed
myself to feel for her. She refused to listen, very rightly. But she
left me in no doubt of her scorn."

Katharine hesitated. She was confused, agitated, physically tired, and
had already to reckon with the violent feeling of dislike aroused by her
aunt which still vibrated through all the rest of her feelings. She sank
into a chair and dropped her flowers upon her lap.

"She charmed me," Rodney continued. "I thought I loved her. But that's
a thing of the past. It's all over, Katharine. It was a dream--an
hallucination. We were both equally to blame, but no harm's done if you
believe how truly I care for you. Say you believe me!"

He stood over her, as if in readiness to seize the first sign of her
assent. Precisely at that moment, owing, perhaps, to her vicissitudes
of feeling, all sense of love left her, as in a moment a mist lifts from
the earth. And when the mist departed a skeleton world and blankness
alone remained--a terrible prospect for the eyes of the living to
behold. He saw the look of terror in her face, and without understanding
its origin, took her hand in his. With the sense of companionship
returned a desire, like that of a child for shelter, to accept what he
had to offer her--and at that moment it seemed that he offered her the
only thing that could make it tolerable to live. She let him press his
lips to her cheek, and leant her head upon his arm. It was the moment of
his triumph. It was the only moment in which she belonged to him and was
dependent upon his protection.

"Yes, yes, yes," he murmured, "you accept me, Katharine. You love me."

For a moment she remained silent. He then heard her murmur:

"Cassandra loves you more than I do."

"Cassandra?" he whispered.

"She loves you," Katharine repeated. She raised herself and repeated the
sentence yet a third time. "She loves you."

William slowly raised himself. He believed instinctively what Katharine
said, but what it meant to him he was unable to understand. Could
Cassandra love him? Could she have told Katharine that she loved him?
The