'The park is greener than it was yesterday,' he said. 'Look at that tree! How bright the green, and how strange it seems amid all the blackness.' 'And that rose cloud and the reflection of the evening in the lake, how tranquil.' 'And that great block of buildings, Queen Anne's Mansions, is it not beautiful in the blue atmosphere? In London the ugliest things are beautiful in the evening. No city has so pictorial an atmosphere.' 'Not Paris?' 'I've not seen Paris; I've never been out of England.' 'Then you're speaking of things you haven't seen.' 'Of things that I've only imagined.' The conversation paused a moment, and then Ralph said: 'Are you still thinking of going to Paris with Elsie Laurence and Cissy Clive?' 'I think so. Paris is the only place one can study art, so they say.' 'You'll be away a long while--several months?' 'It wouldn't be much good going if I didn't stop some time, six or seven months, would it?' 'I suppose not.' Mildred raised her eyes cautiously and looked at him. His eyes were averted. He was looking where some ducks were swimming. They came towards the bank slowly--a drake and two ducks. A third duck paddled aimlessly about at some little distance. There was a slight mist on the water. 'If you go to Paris I hope I may write to you. Send me your drawings to correct. Any advice I can give you is at your service; I shall only be too pleased.' 'Oh, yes, I hope you will write to me. I shall be so glad to hear from you. I shall be lonely all that time away from home.' 'And you'll write to me?' 'Of course. And if I write to you, you won't misunderstand?' Ralph looked up surprised. 'I mean, if I write affectionately you won't misunderstand. It will be because---' 'Because you feel lonely?' 'Partly. But you don't misunderstand, do you?' They watched the ducks in silence. At last Mildred said, 'That duck wanders about by herself; why doesn't she join the others?' 'Perhaps she can't find a drake.' 'Perhaps she prefers to be alone.' 'We shall see--the drake is going to her.' 'She is going away from him. She doesn't want him.' 'She's jealous of the others. If there were no other she would.' 'There are always others.' 'Do you think so?' Mildred did not answer. Ralph waited a few moments, then he said: 'So you're going away for six or seven months; the time will seem very long while you're away.' Again Mildred was tempted to ask him if she might lend him the money to go to Paris. She raised her eyes to his (he wondered what was passing in her mind), but he did not find courage to speak until some days later. He had asked her to come to his studio to see a picture he had begun. It was nearly six o'clock; Mildred had been there nearly an hour; the composition had been exhaustively admired; but something still unsaid seemed to float in the air, and every moment that something seemed to grow more imminent. 'You are decided to go to France. When do you leave?'