ting
from which most of the members were absent. Meanwhile, he waited, and
his eyes rested upon the glow of the beautifully polished mahogany
table.

"William is engaged to Cassandra," said Katharine briefly.

At that Denham looked up quickly at Rodney. Rodney's expression changed.
He lost his self-possession. He smiled a little nervously, and then his
attention seemed to be caught by a fragment of melody from the floor
above. He seemed for a moment to forget the presence of the others. He
glanced towards the door.

"I congratulate you," said Denham.

"Yes, yes. We're all mad--quite out of our minds, Denham," he said.
"It's partly Katharine's doing--partly mine." He looked oddly round the
room as if he wished to make sure that the scene in which he played
a part had some real existence. "Quite mad," he repeated. "Even
Katharine--" His gaze rested upon her finally, as if she, too, had
changed from his old view of her. He smiled at her as if to encourage
her. "Katharine shall explain," he said, and giving a little nod to
Denham, he left the room.

Katharine sat down at once, and leant her chin upon her hands. So long
as Rodney was in the room the proceedings of the evening had seemed to
be in his charge, and had been marked by a certain unreality. Now that
she was alone with Ralph she felt at once that a constraint had been
taken from them both. She felt that they were alone at the bottom of the
house, which rose, story upon story, upon the top of them.

"Why were you waiting out there?" she asked.

"For the chance of seeing you," he replied.

"You would have waited all night if it hadn't been for William. It's
windy too. You must have been cold. What could you see? Nothing but our
windows."

"It was worth it. I heard you call me."

"I called you?" She had called unconsciously.

"They were engaged this morning," she told him, after a pause.

"You're glad?" he asked.

She bent her head. "Yes, yes," she sighed. "But you don't know how good
he is--what he's done for me--" Ralph made a sound of understanding.
"You waited there last night too?" she asked.

"Yes. I can wait," Denham replied.

The words seemed to fill the room with an emotion which Katharine
connected with the sound of distant wheels, the footsteps hurrying along
the pavement, the cries of sirens hooting down the river, the darkness
and the wind. She saw the upright figure standing beneath the lamp-post.

"Waiting in the dark," she said, gla