"I do like you," said Katherine. "And if I like any one I don't care what they do." "All the same," said Maggie, "I don't belong ... to your world, your life. I should shock you, I know. You might be sorry afterwards that you knew me. Supposing I broke away ..." "But I broke away myself," said Katherine, "it is sometimes the only thing to do. I made my mother, who had been goodness itself to me, desperately unhappy." "Why did you do that?" asked Maggie. "Because I wanted to marry my husband." "Well, I love a man too," said Maggie. "Oh, I do hope you'll be happy!" said Katherine. "As happy as I am." "No," said Maggie, shaking her head, "I don't expect to be happy." She seemed to herself as she said that to be hundreds of miles away from Katherine Mark and her easy life, the purple curtains and her amber light. "Not happy but satisfied," she said. She saw that it was five minutes past six. "I must go," she said. When they said good-bye Katherine bent forward and kissed her. "If ever, in your life. I can help in any way at all," she said, "come to me." "I'll do that," promised Maggie. She coloured, and then herself bent forward and kissed Katherine. "I shall like to think of you--and all this--" she said and went. She was let out into the outer world by the smiling maid-servant. Bryanston Square was dark with purple colour as though the purple curtains inside the house had been snipped off from a general curtained world. There was a star or two and some gaunt trees with black pointing fingers, and here a lighted window and there a shining doorway; behind it all the rumble of a world that disregarded love and death and all the Higher Catechism. Maggie confronted a policeman. "Please, can you tell me where the Marble Arch is?" she asked. "Straight ahead, Miss," he answered, pointing down the street, "you can't miss it." And she could not. It soon gleamed white ahead of her against the thick folds of the sky. When she saw it her heart raced in front of her, like a pony, suddenly released, kicking its heels. And her thoughts were so strangely wild! The lovely night, yes, purple like Mrs. Mark's curtains and scented oranges, chrysanthemums, boot-polish and candied sugar.--Oh yes! how kind they had been--nice clergyman, fat a little, but young in spite of his white hair, and Aunt Anne in bed under the crucifix struggling and Mr. Crashaw smiling lustfully at Caroline ... The long black streets, strips of silk and the lamps like fat buttons on a coat, there was a cat! Hist! Hist! A streak of black against black ... and the Chapel bell ringing and Thomas' fiery eyes ...