The first step of confidence was comparatively simple; but a further confidence had revealed itself, as Katharine spoke, which was not so simple, and yet it impressed itself upon her as a necessity; she must tell Katharine what it was clear that she had no conception of--she must tell Katharine that Ralph was in love with her.
"I don't know what he means to do," she said hurriedly, seeking time against the pressure of her own conviction.

"I've not seen him since Christmas." Katharine reflected that this was odd; perhaps, after all, she had misunderstood the position.

She was in the habit of assuming, however, that she was rather unobservant of the finer shades of feeling, and she noted her present failure as another proof that she was a practical, abstract-minded person, better fitted to deal with figures than with the feelings of men and women.

Anyhow, William Rodney would say so.
"And now--" she said.
"Oh, please stay!" Mary exclaimed, putting out her hand to stop her.
Directly Katharine moved she felt, inarticulately and violently, that she could not bear to let her go.

If Katharine went, her only chance of speaking was lost; her only chance of saying something tremendously important was lost.