He
drew her hand through his arm, and fell into step, facing uptown.

"But, my dear girl, I can't have you alone on the streets like this."

"Why don't you come after me then?"

"I was on my way--I was detained," he answered seriously.

"I was joking. I've always gone about alone since I was a child. I'm
perfectly safe."

"I don't like it, just the same. Where's your maid?"

"Sent her home."

"You wanted to be alone?"

"Yes."

He slowed down.

"I don't mind you."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he remarked.

"Do you want me to say nice things to you?"

"I haven't any objection to it," he smiled.

"Tell me about your day."

"I came to tell you about it, before the banquet, and you'd flown."

"You said you wouldn't be back. I've read all the extras up to this."

She displayed the paper, and he smiled and put it in his pocket. He
related the day's events; he even repeated the main points he had made
in his speech, led on by her interest.

"They're a bit afraid of me, even my friends. They think I've got the
reform bug, that I'll go in for a lot of things that they think
unessential."

"Well, won't you?"

"Yes, but it's good politics to keep that to yourself."

"Don't you do it! Throw down all your cards and win out on what's in
your hand."

"That's your advice, is it? It might lose me the office."

"I don't believe it. It takes nerve to state your intentions and invite
the party to stay in or go out. The public cares more for nerve than
party, I think."

They walked and talked until the black mass of the Park blocked the way.
Paul told her of the reform bills he wanted to get put through, bills
that would cost him dear, because there were big vested interests in
opposition. Bob listened, commented, urged him to fight on principle,
not politics. They were so absorbed in themselves that the midnight
crowds scattered and left the world to them.

The walk downtown was over before they realized it. The cold night air,
the exercise, or something had cleared the world of all difficulties for
both of them.

"I'm glad I met you," she nodded to him, as she laid her hand in his for
good-night.

"It was a fine walk; but no more gallivanting alone at night--without
me," he warned her.

"I make no promises and take no orders. I'm a free-lance and an
anarchist. I'm agin the government."

"Not agin the Governor, I hope?"

"No such animal is dreamt of in my philosophy!" quoth she