o see whether Ralph smiled, but
found his gaze fixed on her with such gravity that she turned to the
belief that she had committed no sacrilege but enriched herself, perhaps
immeasurably, perhaps eternally. She hardly dared steep herself in the
infinite bliss. But his glance seemed to ask for some assurance upon
another point of vital interest to him. It beseeched her mutely to tell
him whether what she had read upon his confused sheet had any meaning or
truth to her. She bent her head once more to the papers she held.

"I like your little dot with the flames round it," she said
meditatively.

Ralph nearly tore the page from her hand in shame and despair when he
saw her actually contemplating the idiotic symbol of his most confused
and emotional moments.

He was convinced that it could mean nothing to another, although somehow
to him it conveyed not only Katharine herself but all those states of
mind which had clustered round her since he first saw her pouring
out tea on a Sunday afternoon. It represented by its circumference of
smudges surrounding a central blot all that encircling glow which for
him surrounded, inexplicably, so many of the objects of life, softening
their sharp outline, so that he could see certain streets, books, and
situations wearing a halo almost perceptible to the physical eye. Did
she smile? Did she put the paper down wearily, condemning it not only
for its inadequacy but for its falsity? Was she going to protest once
more that he only loved the vision of her? But it did not occur to her
that this diagram had anything to do with her. She said simply, and in
the same tone of reflection:

"Yes, the world looks something like that to me too."

He received her assurance with profound joy. Quietly and steadily there
rose up behind the whole aspect of life that soft edge of fire which
gave its red tint to the atmosphere and crowded the scene with shadows
so deep and dark that one could fancy pushing farther into their
density and still farther, exploring indefinitely. Whether there was any
correspondence between the two prospects now opening before them
they shared the same sense of the impending future, vast, mysterious,
infinitely stored with undeveloped shapes which each would unwrap for
the other to behold; but for the present the prospect of the future was
enough to fill them with silent adoration. At any rate, their further
attempts to communicate articulately were interrupted by a knock on