ncerity Katrine searched her conscience,
summoned the image of herself before a mental bar, and passed sentence.
_It was true_! Compared with friends from afar; compared even with the
Katrine of years ago, she was slowly, surely stiffening into the
Cranford Model. Another ten years of steady following would find her
with a horizon limited by the High Street and the tennis ground, and a
mind incapable of braving the verdict of a village tea-party. Katrine
sighed; a short, impatient sigh. Self-pride suffered in the revelation,
but she told herself boldly that she was not to blame. She had had no
change, no distractions. Year after year she had vegetated in the same
small place. The past tense came unconsciously to her lips, for already
her thoughts dwelt upon yesterday as a far-off past. Yesterday Jim
Blair had been but a name, the most shadowy of figures; to-day, with
amazing audacity, the shadowy figure had stepped into the very
foreground of life!

Katrine searched her memory for the stray items of information which her
friend's letters had from time to time contained with regard to her
husband's friend. The two men were fellow-captains in the same
regiment. Blair was the senior of the two, but even so his chances of
promotion were small, owing to the hopeless blocking which is the
soldier's greatest handicap. Blair had seen active service, had
distinguished himself in an expedition to Tibet, could with ease have
achieved an exchange, but he was devoted to the regiment, a prime
favourite with the mess, and having private means, preferred to defer
the evil day.

Dorothea's descriptions, though flattering, were somewhat vague. She
had stated frequently, and with conviction, that "Jim was a dear!" but
to which particular brand or type of dear he belonged was left to the
imagination. Jim was the godfather of the son and heir; in descriptions
of domestic scenes and conversations he seemed naturally to play a part;
Dorothea was complacently convinced that in the society of her husband
and herself he found complete satisfaction. It had never occurred to
her to consider the part played by a fourth person in those same
interviews! A quiet, well-mannered young person who sat on the
mantelpiece, taking notes!

"_Katrine and I_!"

The real Katrine gasped once more at the remembrance of those words. So
extraordinary were they, so unbelievable, that to make sure that they
were not the creation of her own brain,