an she had
suffered in the whole of her life; she learnt more of her capacities for
feeling. But when Katharine reappeared she was calm, and had gained a
look of dignity that was new to her.

"Was that him?" she asked.

"It was Ralph Denham," Katharine replied.

"I meant Ralph Denham."

"Why did you mean Ralph Denham? What has William told you about
Ralph Denham?" The accusation that Katharine was calm, callous, and
indifferent was not possible in face of her present air of animation.
She gave Cassandra no time to frame an answer. "Now, when are you and
William going to be married?" she asked.

Cassandra made no reply for some moments. It was, indeed, a very
difficult question to answer. In conversation the night before, William
had indicated to Cassandra that, in his belief, Katharine was becoming
engaged to Ralph Denham in the dining-room. Cassandra, in the rosy light
of her own circumstances, had been disposed to think that the matter
must be settled already. But a letter which she had received that
morning from William, while ardent in its expression of affection, had
conveyed to her obliquely that he would prefer the announcement of their
engagement to coincide with that of Katharine's. This document Cassandra
now produced, and read aloud, with considerable excisions and much
hesitation.

"... a thousand pities--ahem--I fear we shall cause a great deal of
natural annoyance. If, on the other hand, what I have reason to think
will happen, should happen--within reasonable time, and the present
position is not in any way offensive to you, delay would, in my opinion,
serve all our interests better than a premature explanation, which is
bound to cause more surprise than is desirable--"

"Very like William," Katharine exclaimed, having gathered the drift of
these remarks with a speed that, by itself, disconcerted Cassandra.

"I quite understand his feelings," Cassandra replied. "I quite agree
with them. I think it would be much better, if you intend to marry Mr.
Denham, that we should wait as William says."

"But, then, if I don't marry him for months--or, perhaps, not at all?"

Cassandra was silent. The prospect appalled her. Katharine had been
telephoning to Ralph Denham; she looked queer, too; she must be, or
about to become, engaged to him. But if Cassandra could have overheard
the conversation upon the telephone, she would not have felt so certain
that it tended in that direction. It was to this effect: