They had walked fast, and the flags were up in Elaine’s cheeks. “The walk, yes!” she said quickly. “But as for your East Side! . . . Well, I prefer the middle.” She shrugged good-naturedly. “I’m not a snob. I know these people are every bit as good as I am; but I don’t feel any call to herd with them.” “Oh well, let them go!” said Wilfred, smiling. (How useless this ordeal! But he had resolved upon it. As soon as it was dark, he had vowed.) Elaine, glancing at him through her lashes, moved away ever so slightly. The move was not lost on Wilfred, but he stubbornly held to his purpose. Looking out over the river, Elaine said quickly: “This view makes up for any amount of East Side!” Wilfred, thankful for the respite, followed her glance. The stream was like a magical beam of twilight in the dark. It seemed to be the source of its own blue, darkling radiance. The fading sky held no such poignancy. The river was both still and subtly perturbed; like a smooth breast swelling upon inaudible sighs; like a quiet face working with obscure passions. Out in the middle rose the crouching black rocks off the point of Blackwell’s Island; the island itself, appeared, pointing out of the obscurity like a gigantic black forefinger. On it rose the inhuman prison buildings. Architects are always successful in designing prisons, Wilfred thought. Further to the left, and high against the sky sprang the vast cantilever bridge, a rumbling portent of the Age of Machines. Wilfred put his yearning hand upon hers. She snatched her hand away. “Oh, Wilfred! not _that_!” “Elaine, will you marry me?” he whispered. “Oh!” she breathed crossly. “You know very well I don’t love you!” “Yes, I know.” “Then why on earth . . . ?” “I wanted you to know that I loved you.” “I knew it. I am not blind.” “But I was forced to tell you . . . because it was so difficult.” “Oh, you ridiculous man! . . . I couldn’t possibly fall in love with a man like you!” “I know it,” he murmured, while the iron entered slowly into his soul. “You knew it all along,” she said. “You are no fool. I was glad to have you come to see me, you’re so intelligent. But I wondered why you continued to come.” “I couldn’t help myself.” Elaine said no more, but looked out over the river, kicking her heel impatiently against the stone of the parapet. How deeply grateful Wilfred was, to be spared her pity. How prompt and honest had been her response—like all her responses to life. While he backed and filled! He was not even sure at this moment that he wanted to marry her. Was there not a feeling of relief amidst all his pain? . . . Ah! if he might only hold her close, close in his arms and stop thinking! He said: “You’ll catch cold if you continue to sit here.” Lifting herself on her hands, she sprang down. “We’ll have to walk a bit before we can hope to find a taxi,” said Wilfred. “What’s the matter with the car-line?” “All right. The nearest is on Second Avenue.”