His lips tightened grimly. He was not yet altogether over his alarm. “You needn’t have troubled me at all--if you care to call it trouble--for you need not have come to town at all. Your hansom is wrecked, however. Shall I call another?” “Let us walk,” she returned, with a meekness that made his heart throb wildly. Merrington dismissed the cabman, giving him such a tip and such a berating for his carelessness that the man was left pondering whether he was considered a hero or a fool. Jacqueline was looking on with a new light in her regard. How big and strong he was, she thought. No wonder he was so masterful. Her cheeks were flushed when he turned to join her. “Where is it?” he asked, taking his place beside her. “Anywhere. I was just killing time.” “And do you mean to say that thought of meeting me actually drove you from one place to another?” The reproach in his voice fed her humility hugely, but she even tilted her head back on the firmness of her neck, and became perverse. “I was really enjoying my day in town. I like to see New York in midsummer. It is like meeting a woman you have known only superficially, suddenly in negligée. Don’t you think so?” “I had never thought of it in that way. Maybe my lack of experience puts a damper on my imagination.” She stopped with admirably feigned compunction. “I am afraid I am keeping you from an engagement.” “You are.” She drew her brows together, puzzled, more hurt than provoked at his candor. “Then please go,” she pleaded. “Was it very important?” “Essentially so; to me, at least.” She shrank somewhat from the look in his eyes, but held out her hand with an accession of friendliness. The broad avenue was nearly deserted at the moment. “I have been thoughtless, but you said--that is, I thought you, too, were just putting in your time to-day.” She smiled at him a little shyly. “The engagement I had in mind can’t possibly come to pass without you.” He was holding her hand, and looking from it to her face, as though uncertain of this new graciousness in her. She laughed, attempting to withdraw her hand. “Mr. Merrington, while no one in sight would suspect the absurdity of our conversation, suppose we walk on.” “Now, if I were that poor cave-dweller you likened me to,” he said, not at all balking at the allusion, “I’d take you to the Little Church Around the Corner.” “Take me, anyway, will you not?” she surprised him by saying. “I am fond of that little church.” * * * * * They were alone. Into the cool gloom the light of the outer day fell through windows of exquisite dyes. Jacqueline sighed with a sense of relief that was greater than she had anticipated. She made up her mind that when she left the church she would go straight to the boat. In the meantime, she felt sure that Merrington, if somewhat restless, would, at least, not pursue his determined wooing.