Katharine had not moved; she was leaning a little forward in her chair and looking into the fire.

Something in the attitude reminded Mary of Ralph.

So he would sit, leaning forward, looking rather fixedly in front of him, while his mind went far away, exploring, speculating, until he broke off with his, "Well, Mary ?"--and the silence, that had been so full of romance to her, gave way to the most delightful talk that she had ever known.
Something unfamiliar in the pose of the silent figure, something still, solemn, significant about it, made her hold her breath.

She paused.

Her thoughts were without bitterness.