e following
day. Hampton Court was decided upon, in preference to Hampstead, for
though Cassandra had dreamt as a child of the brigands of Hampstead, she
had now transferred her affections completely and for ever to William
III. Accordingly, they arrived at Hampton Court about lunch-time on a
fine Sunday morning. Such unity marked their expressions of admiration
for the red-brick building that they might have come there for no other
purpose than to assure each other that this palace was the stateliest
palace in the world. They walked up and down the Terrace, four abreast,
and fancied themselves the owners of the place, and calculated the
amount of good to the world produced indubitably by such a tenancy.

"The only hope for us," said Katharine, "is that William shall die, and
Cassandra shall be given rooms as the widow of a distinguished poet."

"Or--" Cassandra began, but checked herself from the liberty of
envisaging Katharine as the widow of a distinguished lawyer. Upon this,
the third day of junketing, it was tiresome to have to restrain oneself
even from such innocent excursions of fancy. She dared not question
William; he was inscrutable; he never seemed even to follow the other
couple with curiosity when they separated, as they frequently did, to
name a plant, or examine a fresco. Cassandra was constantly studying
their backs. She noticed how sometimes the impulse to move came from
Katharine, and sometimes from Ralph; how, sometimes, they walked slow,
as if in profound intercourse, and sometimes fast, as if in passionate.
When they came together again nothing could be more unconcerned than
their manner.

"We have been wondering whether they ever catch a fish..." or, "We must
leave time to visit the Maze." Then, to puzzle her further, William and
Ralph filled in all interstices of meal-times or railway journeys with
perfectly good-tempered arguments; or they discussed politics, or they
told stories, or they did sums together upon the backs of old envelopes
to prove something. She suspected that Katharine was absent-minded, but
it was impossible to tell. There were moments when she felt so young and
inexperienced that she almost wished herself back with the silkworms at
Stogdon House, and not embarked upon this bewildering intrigue.

These moments, however, were only the necessary shadow or chill which
proved the substance of her bliss, and did not damage the radiance which
seemed to rest equally upon the whole