"It's not such an imposing name as Katharine Hilbery, I'm afraid." They both looked out of the window, first up at the hard silver moon, stationary among a hurry of little grey-blue clouds, and then down upon the roofs of London, with all their upright chimneys, and then below them at the empty moonlit pavement of the street, upon which the joint of each paving-stone was clearly marked out.

Mary then saw Katharine raise her eyes again to the moon, with a contemplative look in them, as though she were setting that moon against the moon of other nights, held in memory.

Some one in the room behind them made a joke about star-gazing, which destroyed their pleasure in it, and they looked back into the room again.
Ralph had been watching for this moment, and he instantly produced his sentence.
"I wonder, Miss Hilbery, whether you remembered to get that picture glazed ?" His voice showed that the question was one that had been prepared.
"Oh, you idiot!" Mary exclaimed, very nearly aloud, with a sense that Ralph had said something very stupid.

So, after three lessons in Latin grammar, one might correct a fellow student, whose knowledge did not embrace the ablative of "mensa." "Picture--what picture ?" Katharine asked.

"Oh, at home, you mean--that Sunday afternoon.