The swinging of the gloves ceased, and Katharine, after ten minutes, began to make movements preliminary to departure.

At the sight of this, Mary was aware--she was abnormally aware of things to-night--of another very strong desire; Katharine was not to be allowed to go, to disappear into the free, happy world of irresponsible individuals.

She must be made to realize--to feel.
"I don't quite see," she said, as if Katharine had challenged her explicitly, "how, things being as they are, any one can help trying, at least, to do something." "No.

But how ARE things ?" Mary pressed her lips, and smiled ironically; she had Katharine at her mercy; she could, if she liked, discharge upon her head wagon-loads of revolting proof of the state of things ignored by the casual, the amateur, the looker-on, the cynical observer of life at a distance.
And yet she hesitated.

As usual, when she found herself in talk with Katharine, she began to feel rapid alternations of opinion about her, arrows of sensation striking strangely through the envelope of personality, which shelters us so conveniently from our fellows.