She bent forward again.
“Dear—tell me! A little while ago—out there—when you wanted it—wasn’t that hard?”
Ralston nodded silently.
“And didn’t you resist because it was a little—just a little for my sake? Just at that moment when you said to yourself that you wouldn’t, you know, or just before, or just afterwards—didn’t you think a little of me, dear?”
“Of course I did. Oh, Katharine, Katharine—” His voice was shaking now.
“Yes. I know now,” she answered. “I don’t want anything but that—all my life.”
Still Ralston bent his head again, looking down at his hands and believing that he was still resisting. He could not have spoken, had he tried, and Katharine saw it. She leaned still nearer to him.
“Dear—I’m going home now. I shall be walking in Clinton Place at half-past eight to-morrow morning, as we arranged. Good-night—dear.”
Before he realized what she meant to do, she had risen and reached the door. He sprang to his feet and followed her, but the crowd had closed again and she was gone.