of bracken
beneath the stars of midnight, and visited the snow valleys of the moon.
These fancies would have been in no way strange, since the walls of
every mind are decorated with some such tracery, but she found herself
suddenly pursuing such thoughts with an extreme ardor, which became
a desire to change her actual condition for something matching the
conditions of her dream. Then she started; then she awoke to the fact
that Cassandra was looking at her in amazement.

Cassandra would have liked to feel certain that, when Katharine made no
reply at all or one wide of the mark, she was making up her mind to get
married at once, but it was difficult, if this were so, to account for
some remarks that Katharine let fall about the future. She recurred
several times to the summer, as if she meant to spend that season in
solitary wandering. She seemed to have a plan in her mind which required
Bradshaws and the names of inns.

Cassandra was driven finally, by her own unrest, to put on her clothes
and wander out along the streets of Chelsea, on the pretence that
she must buy something. But, in her ignorance of the way, she became
panic-stricken at the thought of being late, and no sooner had she found
the shop she wanted, than she fled back again in order to be at home
when William came. He came, indeed, five minutes after she had sat down
by the tea-table, and she had the happiness of receiving him alone. His
greeting put her doubts of his affection at rest, but the first question
he asked was:

"Has Katharine spoken to you?"

"Yes. But she says she's not engaged. She doesn't seem to think she's
ever going to be engaged."

William frowned, and looked annoyed.

"They telephoned this morning, and she behaves very oddly. She forgets
to help the pudding," Cassandra added by way of cheering him.

"My dear child, after what I saw and heard last night, it's not a
question of guessing or suspecting. Either she's engaged to him--or--"

He left his sentence unfinished, for at this point Katharine herself
appeared. With his recollections of the scene the night before, he was
too self-conscious even to look at her, and it was not until she told
him of her mother's visit to Stratford-on-Avon that he raised his eyes.
It was clear that he was greatly relieved. He looked round him now, as
if he felt at his ease, and Cassandra exclaimed:

"Don't you think everything looks quite different?"

"You've moved the sofa?" he asked.

"