Every day since her widowhood, every day for three years, she had decided to make that pilgrimage ... some time. And now, crossing Union Square on that lovely afternoon late in April, she knew that the time had come. Not that there was any reason for haste. ... At the vague thought her brown eyes rested a moment on the tall young man beside her.... Yes ... she would go ... to-morrow. A vender of violets shuffled up beside them; Langham picked up a dewy bundle of blossoms, and their perfume seemed to saturate the air till it tasted on the tongue. She shook her head. "No, no, please; the fragrance is too heavy."... "Won't you accept them?" he inquired, bluntly. Again she shook her head; there was indecision in the smile, assent in the gesture. However, he perceived neither. She took a short step forward. The wind whipped the fountain jet, and a fanlike cloud of spray drifted off across the asphalt. Then they moved on together. Presently she said, quietly, "I believe I will carry a bunch of those violets;" and she waited for him to go back through the fountain spray, find the peddler, and rummage among the perfumed heaps in the basket. "Because," she added, cheerfully, as he returned with the flowers, "I am going to the East Tenth Street Mission, and I meant to take some flowers, anyway." "If you would keep that cluster and let me send the whole basket to your mission--" he began. But she had already started on across the wet pavement. "I did not know you were going to give my flowers to those cripples," he said, keeping pace with her. [Illustration: "'I MEANT TO TAKE SOME FLOWERS, ANYWAY'"] "Do you mind?" she asked, but she had not meant to say that, and she walked a little more quickly to escape the quick reply. "I want to ask you something," he said, after a moment's brisk walking. "I wish--if you don't mind--I wish you would walk around the square with me--just once--" "Certainly not," she said; "and now you will say good-bye--because you are going away, you say." She had stopped at the Fourth Avenue edge of the square. "So good-bye, and thank you for the beautiful dog, and for the violets." "But you won't keep the dog, and you won't keep the violets," he said; "and, besides, if you are going north--" "Good-bye," she repeated, smiling. "--besides," he went on, "I would like to know where you are going." "That," she said, "is what I do not wish to tell you--or anybody." There was a brief silence; the charm of her bent head distracted him. "If you won't go," she said, with caprice, "I will walk once around the square with you, but it is the silliest thing I have ever done in my entire life." "Why won't you keep the bull-terrier?" he asked, humbly. "Because I'm going north--for one reason." "Couldn't you take His Highness?" "No--that is, I could, but--I can't explain--he would distract me." "Shall I take him back, then?" "Why?" she demanded, surprised.