Each of these two were touched by the spirit of this unrest. They spoke of the beauty of the day, of the joy of idling now and then, so sweet to busy people, but soon fell into silence, for their thoughts were not with their words. The young man’s eyes became misty from time to time, though his companion saw it not, for she did not look at his face. He was thinking that in after years he should often recall this walk. On his mind he was painting every object his eyes encountered, that he might treasure it as a comforting picture in the possible lonely future. After wandering about awhile they sat down in a tiny park near a fountain, and idly watched the water spraying in the sunshine. “How long have you been here, Miss Hill?” Kendall asked abruptly. “Four years,” she answered, tossing a pebble into the fountain and showing little interest in anything but her own thoughts. “And I five.” As she said nothing, presently he went on: “Now, I want you to do me a service, a real service. I want you to decide a question, an important question for me, and I have determined to abide by your decision, whatever it may be. Yes, I will do exactly as you say.” Expecting a word or look of interest from her, he paused; but she went on drawing lines on the gravel walk with her parasol, in silence. Being of the large, fair type of man, his face flushed with every emotion. Just now he colored deeply because of her apparent unconcern, but continued: “There are times in each life when it is necessary to do one of two things. Until we reach this point we get on very well, and are untroubled by doubts. But when we have to decide whether to keep the right hand road or take the left, then we look about for something or somebody to cast the die for us. The doing is always comparatively easy; it’s the deciding that muddles and troubles us. Now I have come to the place where the road divides, and I want some help on the decision.” She looked up at him now with unaffected interest.