heaven! Oh-h!" This last was the one unendurable pang to Catharine.

Jane at the moment thrust her black face in: "He's come. Hurry up,
honey! Mr. Muller, ob course. Shell I do up your hair, chile?"

Kitty shook her head and smiled. She would have had a kind smile for
Jane and her like if she had been held by thumbscrews. Stooping to
button her gaiters, she caught sight of her face in the glass. There
were dark hollows under the eyes: they had the look of an older,
graver woman than she had ever been before. Kitty hung up the green
dress she had meant to wear, and took down a rose-colored one. Mr.
Muller was talking down stairs. There was reality. There was her work
and her husband. Why, she had the account-books of the school in her
upper bureau-drawer at that moment, and in the lower ones her wedding
things. Dresses and cloaks all made; and such lovely linen! As for
Hugh Guinness, he was, after all, but a perplexing shadow, a riddle
that turned from her the more she tried to make him real. She went
down.

"Why, Catharine!" He held her hand, patting it between his own, which
were warm and moist. "I really could not deny myself a glimpse of you,
though I was sent on an errand by Maria to the station. But all roads
end for me in the Book-shop. That is natural--he! he!"

"Yes, it is natural."

"It must be only a glimpse, though. I begged of Jane a cup of hot tea,
to take off the chill of this morning air. Ah, here it is: thank you,
my good girl. Only a glimpse, for Maria's business was urgent: Maria's
business always is urgent. But I was to intercept Doctor McCall on his