n great need,
if not exactly of sympathy, of some form of advice, or, at least, of the
opportunity of setting forth her problems before a third person so as to
renew them in her own eyes.

"But then," she said, ignoring the difficult problem of ugliness, "you
knew you were in love; but we're different. It seems," she continued,
frowning a little as she tried to fix the difficult feeling, "as if
something came to an end suddenly--gave out--faded--an illusion--as
if when we think we're in love we make it up--we imagine what doesn't
exist. That's why it's impossible that we should ever marry. Always to
be finding the other an illusion, and going off and forgetting about
them, never to be certain that you cared, or that he wasn't caring for
some one not you at all, the horror of changing from one state to the
other, being happy one moment and miserable the next--that's the reason
why we can't possibly marry. At the same time," she continued, "we can't
live without each other, because--" Mrs. Hilbery waited patiently for
the sentence to be completed, but Katharine fell silent and fingered her
sheet of figures.

"We have to have faith in our vision," Mrs. Hilbery resumed, glancing
at the figures, which distressed her vaguely, and had some connection in
her mind with the household accounts, "otherwise, as you say--" She
cast a lightning glance into the depths of disillusionment which were,
perhaps, not altogether unknown to her.

"Believe me, Katharine, it's the same for every one--for me, too--for
your father," she said earnestly, and sighed. They looked together into
the abyss and, as the elder of the two, she recovered herself first and
asked:

"But where is Ralph? Why isn't he here to see me?"

Katharine's expression changed instantly.

"Because he's not allowed to come here," she replied bitterly.

Mrs. Hilbery brushed this aside.

"Would there be time to send for him before luncheon?" she asked.

Katharine looked at her as if, indeed, she were some magician. Once
more she felt that instead of being a grown woman, used to advise and
command, she was only a foot or two raised above the long grass and the
little flowers and entirely dependent upon the figure of indefinite size
whose head went up into the sky, whose hand was in hers, for guidance.

"I'm not happy without him," she said simply.

Mrs. Hilbery nodded her head in a manner which indicated complete
understanding, and the immediate conception of certai