to bed.

The two figures whom his eyes followed did not go back toward their home
but crossed the avenue at the entrance to the park. They walked very
slowly, stopping as they reached the first group of trees. He wondered
what they were saying. Perhaps Miss Ogilvie was telling Dick one of her
stories.

What she was saying was this: "I've something to tell you about myself
but I don't know how to begin."

Dick's heart leaped at this sign of confidence. "Begin anywhere it's
easiest," he said, "and don't begin at all unless you want to."

"I do want to. At least I think you ought to know. It isn't fair to you
not to tell."

"Fire away then," Dick cried cheerfully. "I hope it means that there's
something for me to do. Isn't there a cruel father who needs to be
hunted in his lair, or an unforgiving sister who is as ugly as you are
beautiful whom I can melt with my pleadings? Don't have a fortune
anywhere for I want to do everything for you myself."

"No," Hertha said, making a vain attempt to laugh, "there isn't anything
like that."

"Whatever there is," Dick's voice trembled in his earnestness, "it can't
make any difference to me. I couldn't love you any more, and there isn't
any possible thing that could make me love you less."

His shaking voice and the intensity of his speech made Hertha
unconsciously draw away. Always hurt by his passion, she stopped for a
moment wondering if she were not making a mistake, if she should not
leave before it was too late with everything unsaid. But as she looked
down the long street the loneliness of a life by herself made her keep
her resolve. Holding herself tense she walked quietly by the man's side.

They were under the arc-light that flooded the entrance to the park.
Large trees rose about them, their branches meeting overhead. To the
right and left small paths wound among the shrubbery to disappear in the
darkness. The air was sweet with the fragrance of syringa and
honeysuckle and of the fresh, warm earth.

"Shall we walk a little way?" Dick said. "It's jolly hot, isn't it?"
fumbling at his stiff collar. "Girls have the bulge on a man this
weather when it comes to clothes."

Hertha had intended going to the lake, but the way looked so lonely, so
apart from the city lights and sounds, that she shrank from taking one
of the paths. "Don't you want to smoke?" she asked. "I'd like to talk
with you when you're enjoying your cigar."

The young man laughed and started to co