ry sensitive by their
cultivated perceptions, suffer constant slights both to their own
persons and to the thing they worship. But Rodney could never resist
making trial of the sympathies of any one who seemed favorably disposed,
and Denham's praise had stimulated his very susceptible vanity.

"You remember the passage just before the death of the Duchess?" he
continued, edging still closer to Denham, and adjusting his elbow and
knee in an incredibly angular combination. Here, Katharine, who had been
cut off by these maneuvers from all communication with the outer world,
rose, and seated herself upon the window-sill, where she was joined by
Mary Datchet. The two young women could thus survey the whole party.
Denham looked after them, and made as if he were tearing handfuls of
grass up by the roots from the carpet. But as it fell in accurately
with his conception of life that all one's desires were bound to be
frustrated, he concentrated his mind upon literature, and determined,
philosophically, to get what he could out of that.

Katharine was pleasantly excited. A variety of courses was open to her.
She knew several people slightly, and at any moment one of them might
rise from the floor and come and speak to her; on the other hand, she
might select somebody for herself, or she might strike into Rodney's
discourse, to which she was intermittently attentive. She was conscious
of Mary's body beside her, but, at the same time, the consciousness of
being both of them women made it unnecessary to speak to her. But Mary,
feeling, as she had said, that Katharine was a "personality," wished so
much to speak to her that in a few moments she did.

"They're exactly like a flock of sheep, aren't they?" she said,
referring to the noise that rose from the scattered bodies beneath her.

Katharine turned and smiled.

"I wonder what they're making such a noise about?" she said.

"The Elizabethans, I suppose."

"No, I don't think it's got anything to do with the Elizabethans. There!
Didn't you hear them say, 'Insurance Bill'?"

"I wonder why men always talk about politics?" Mary speculated. "I
suppose, if we had votes, we should, too."

"I dare say we should. And you spend your life in getting us votes,
don't you?"

"I do," said Mary, stoutly. "From ten to six every day I'm at it."

Katharine looked at Ralph Denham, who was now pounding his way through
the metaphysics of metaphor with Rodney, and was reminded of his talk
tha