She started nervously. "There! you've lost your car, Dan.""Have I?" asked Mavering, without troubling himself to look after it.
She laughed now, with a faint suggestion of unwillingness in her laugh.
"What are you going to do?"
"Walk home with you."
"No, indeed; you know I can't let you."
"And are you going to leave me here alone on the street corner, to be run over by the first bicycle that comes along?""You can sit down in the Garden, and wait for the next car.""No; I would rather go back to the Art Museum, and make a fresh start.""To the Art Museum?" she murmured, tenderly.
"Yes. Wouldn't you like to see it again?""Again? I should like to pass my whole life in it!""Well, walk back with me a little way. There's no hurry about the car.""Dan!" she said, in a helpless compliance, and they paced very, very slowly along the Beacon Street path in the Garden. "This is ridiculous.""Yes, but it's delightful."
"Yes, that's what I meant. Do you suppose any one ever--ever--""Made love there before?"
"How can you say such things? Yes. I always supposed it would be--somewhere else."
It was somewhere else--once."
"Oh, I meant--the second time."
"Then you did think there was going to be a second time?""How do I know? I wished it. Do you like me to say that?""I wish you would never say anything else.""Yes; there can't be any harm in it now. I thought that if you had ever--liked me, you would still--"
"So did I; but I couldn't believe that you--""Oh, I could."
"Alice!"
"Don't you like my confessing it! You asked me to.""Like it!"
"How silly we are!"
"Not half so silly as we've been for the last two months. I think we've just come to our senses. At least I have.""Two months!" she sighed. "Has it really been so long as that?""Two years! Two centuries! It was back in the Dark Ages when you refused me.""Dark Ages! I should think so! But don't say refused. It wasn't refusing, exactly.""What was it, then?"
"Oh, I don't know. Don't speak of it now.""But, Alice, why did you refuse me?"
"Oh, I don't know. You mustn't ask me now. I'll tell you some time.""Well, come to think of it," said Mavering, laughing it all lightly away, "there's no hurry. Tell me why you accepted me to-day.""I--I couldn't help it. When I saw you I wanted to fall at your feet.""What an idea! I didn't want to fall at yours. I was awfully mad. Ishouldn't have spoken to you if you hadn't stopped me and held out your hand.""Really? Did you really hate me, Dan?"
"Well, I haven't exactly doted on you since we last met."She did not seem offended at this. "Yes, I suppose so. And I've gone on being fonder and fonder of you every minute since that day. I wanted to call you back when you had got half-way to Eastport.""I wouldn't have come. It's bad luck to turn back."She laughed at his drolling. "How funny you are! Now I'm of rather a gloomy temperament. Did, you know it?""You don't look it."
"Oh, but I am. Just now I'm rather excited and--happy.""So glad!"
"Go on! go on! I like you to make fun of me."The benches on either side were filled with nursemaids in charge of baby-carriages, and of young children who were digging in the sand with their little beach shovels, and playing their games back and forth across the walk unrebuked by the indulgent policemen. A number of them had enclosed a square in the middle of the path with four of the benches, which they made believe was a fort. The lovers had to walk round it; and the children, chasing one another, dashed into them headlong, or, backing off from pursuit, bumped up against them. They did not seem to know it, but walked slowly on without noticing: they were not aware of an occasional benchful of rather shabby young fellows who stared hard at the stylish girl and well-dressed young man talking together in such intense low tones, with rapid interchange of radiant glances.
"Oh, as to ****** fun of you, I was going to say--" Mavering began, and after a pause he broke off with a laugh. "I forget what I was going to say.""Try to remember."
"I can't."
How strange that we should have both happened to go to the Museum this morning!" she sighed. Then, "Dan," she broke in, "do you suppose that heaven is any different from this?""I hope not--if I'm to go there."
"Hush, dear; you mustn't talk so."
"Why, you provoked me to it."
"Did I? Did I really? Do you think I tempted you to do it? Then I must be wicked, whether I knew I was doing it or not. Yes."The break in her voice made him look more keenly at her, and he saw the tears glimmer in her eyes. "Alice!""No; I'm not good enough for you. I always said that.""Then don't say it any more. That's the only thing I won't let you say.""Do you forbid it, really? Won't you let me even think it?""No, not even think it."
"How lovely you are! Oh! I like to be commanded by you.""Do you? You'll have lots of fun, then. I'm an awfully commanding spirit.""I didn't suppose you were so humorous--always. I'm afraid you won't like me. I've no sense of fun.""And I'm a little too funny sometimes, I'm afraid.""No, you never are. When?"
"That night at the Trevors'. You didn't like it.""I thought Miss Anderson was rather ridiculous," said Alice. "I don't like buffoonery in women.""Nor I in men," said Mavering, smiling. "I've dropped it.""Well, now we must part. I must go home at once," said Alice. "It's perfectly insane.""Oh no, not yet; not till we've said something else; not till we've changed the subject.""What subject?"
"Miss Anderson."
Alice laughed and blushed, but she was not vexed. She liked to have him understand her. "Well, now," she said, as if that were the next thing, "I'm going to cross here at once and walk up the other pavement, and you must go back through the Garden; or else I shall never get away from you."May I look over at you?"
You may glance, but you needn't expect me to return your glance.""Oh no."
"And I want you to take the very first Cambridge car that comes along. Icommand you to."
"I thought you wanted me to do the commanding.""So I do--in essentials. If you command me not to cry when I get home, Iwon't."
