“Some time; not now,” she said; and with something that was like a gasp, and threatened to be a sob, she suddenly whipped across the road. He walked back to Charles Street by the Garden path, keeping abreast of her, and not losing sight of her for a moment, except when the bulk of a string team watering at the trough beside the pavement intervened. He hurried by, and when he had passed it he found himself exactly abreast of her again. Her face was turned toward him; they exchanged a smile, lost in space. At the corner of Charles Street he deliberately crossed over to her. “O dearest love! why did you come?” she implored. “Because you signed to me.” “I hoped you wouldn't see it. If we're both to be so weak as this, what are we going to do?” “But I'm glad you came. Yes: I was frightened. They must have overheard us there when we were talking.” “Well, I didn't say anything I'm ashamed of. Besides, I shouldn't care much for the opinion of those nurses and babies.” “Of course not. But people must have seen us. Don't stand here talking, Dan! Do come on!” She hurried him across the street, and walked him swiftly up the incline of Beacon Street. There, in her new fall suit, with him, glossy-hatted, faultlessly gloved, at a fit distance from her side, she felt more in keeping with the social frame of things than in the Garden path, which was really only a shade better than the Beacon Street Mall of the Common. “Do you suppose anybody saw us that knew us?” “I hope so! Don't you want people to know it?” “Yes, of course. They will have to know it--in the right way. Can you believe that it's only half a year since we met? It won't be a year till Class Day.” “I don't believe it, Alice. I can't recollect anything before I knew you.” “Well, now, as time is so confused, we must try to live for eternity. We must try to help each other to be good. Oh, when I think what a happy girl I am, I feel that I should be the most ungrateful person under the sun not to be good. Let's try to make our lives perfect--perfect! They can be. And we mustn't live for each other alone. We must try to do good as well as be good. We must be kind and forbearing with every one.” He answered, with tender seriousness, “My life's in your hands, Alice. It shall be whatever you wish.” They were both silent in their deep belief of this. When they spoke again, she began gaily: “I shall never get over the wonder of it. How strange that we should meet at the Museum!” They had both said this already, but that did not matter; they had said nearly everything two or three times. “How did you happen to be there?” she asked, and the question was so novel that she added, “I haven't asked you before.” He stopped, with a look of dismay that broke up in a hopeless laugh. “Why, I went there to meet some people--some ladies. And when I saw you I forgot all about them.” Alice laughed to; this was a part of their joy, their triumph.