Katharine was immensely to be pitied.

The cab, which had been caught in the traffic, was now liberated and
sped on down Sloane Street. Mary was conscious of the tension with which
Katharine marked its progress, as if her mind were fixed upon a point in
front of them, and marked, second by second, their approach to it. She
said nothing, and in silence Mary began to fix her mind, in sympathy
at first, and later in forgetfulness of her companion, upon a point
in front of them. She imagined a point distant as a low star upon the
horizon of the dark. There for her too, for them both, was the goal for
which they were striving, and the end for the ardors of their spirits
was the same: but where it was, or what it was, or why she felt
convinced that they were united in search of it, as they drove swiftly
down the streets of London side by side, she could not have said.

"At last," Katharine breathed, as the cab drew up at the door. She
jumped out and scanned the pavement on either side. Mary, meanwhile,
rang the bell. The door opened as Katharine assured herself that no one
of the people within view had any likeness to Ralph. On seeing her, the
maid said at once:

"Mr. Denham called again, miss. He has been waiting for you for some
time."

Katharine vanished from Mary's sight. The door shut between them, and
Mary walked slowly and thoughtfully up the street alone.

Katharine turned at once to the dining-room. But with her fingers upon
the handle, she held back. Perhaps she realized that this was a moment
which would never come again. Perhaps, for a second, it seemed to her
that no reality could equal the imagination she had formed. Perhaps she
was restrained by some vague fear or anticipation, which made her dread
any exchange or interruption. But if these doubts and fears or this
supreme bliss restrained her, it was only for a moment. In another
second she had turned the handle and, biting her lip to control herself,
she opened the door upon Ralph Denham. An extraordinary clearness of
sight seemed to possess her on beholding him. So little, so single,
so separate from all else he appeared, who had been the cause of these
extreme agitations and aspirations. She could have laughed in his face.
But, gaining upon this clearness of sight against her will, and to her
dislike, was a flood of confusion, of relief, of certainty, of humility,
of desire no longer to strive and to discriminate, yielding to which,
she let herself si