But when he looked out of the window, it was of her he thought; she, too, had seen these gray fields, and, perhaps, she was there where the trees ran up a slope, and one yellow light shone now, and then went out again, at the foot of the hill.

The light shone in the windows of an old gray house, he thought.

He lay back in his corner and forgot the commercial traveler altogether.

The process of visualizing Katharine stopped short at the old gray manor-house; instinct warned him that if he went much further with this process reality would soon force itself in; he could not altogether neglect the figure of William Rodney.

Since the day when he had heard from Katharine's lips of her engagement, he had refrained from investing his dream of her with the details of real life.