“D’you think children—a household—that sort of thing—d’you think that’ll satisfy her? Mind, I’m out all day.”
“She would certainly be very competent,” Henry stated.
“Oh, she’s wonderfully competent,” said Rodney. “But—I get absorbed in my poetry. Well, Katharine hasn’t got that. She admires my poetry, you know, but that wouldn’t be enough for her?”
“No,” said Henry. He paused. “I think you're right,” he added, as if he were summing up his thoughts. “Katharine hasn’t found herself yet. Life isn’t altogether real to her yet—I sometimes think———”
“Yes?” Rodney inquired, as if he were eager for Henry to continue. “That is what I—’ he was going on, as Henry remained silent, but the sentence was not finished, for the door opened, and they were interrupted by Henry’s younger brother Gilbert, much to Henry’s relief, for he had already said more than he liked.
