His impulse to break up the constraint was chilled, and once more the exasperating sense of his own impotency returned to him.

He could not help contrasting Katharine with his vision of the engaging, whimsical Cassandra; Katharine undemonstrative, inconsiderate, silent, and yet so notable that he could never do without her good opinion.
She veered round upon him a moment later, as if, when her train of thought was ended, she became aware of his presence.
"Have you finished your letter ?" she asked.

He thought he heard faint amusement in her tone, but not a trace of jealousy.
"No, I'm not going to write any more to-night," he said.

"I'm not in the mood for it for some reason.

I can't say what I want to say." "Cassandra won't know if it's well written or badly written," Katharine remarked.
"I'm not so sure about that.