"I'm not scared." Daisy slid a soft glance up at him. "All right," said her companion, "for that, we go to the park, like I said--this time. I had a half a mind to ride you to the bridge and dump you into the river. I'm a revengeful son of gun when I'm crossed." It was now about eight o'clock. The streets were filling with the promenaders of evening, each in his or her best "bib and tucker," enjoying the worker's well earned off-hour of spooning or strolling. Motorcycles darted in and out among the sedater and larger vehicles, exploding like machine-guns; in the seat of each a happy youth with either smile or cigarette or both, and often behind him, on a kind of pillion, a girl, with the happily-needful arm placed about him for purposes of support. Sometimes the girl was in a side-car, but then she was generally the motorcyclist's wife. Automobiles glided ahead or beside, down the smooth broad asphalt, like boats on a canal. As the street ribboned away behind Daisy and her driver, there showed gradually more green spaces on the streets. Before long, the houses grew few and drew away, as it were, from the roadside. Green woods scalloped the skyline. The asphalt ended, and they were running on a smooth-graded road, oiled to keep down the dust. There was an interval of quiet bowling along through sunset woodland, with Nature's lawns interspersing; then life, to Daisy's relief, began to bubble and sparkle around them again. They had reached the gate of the park at the same time as two crowded street-cars; and, obeying traffic rules, halted to let the crowd of passengers--many-hued in their summer dresses as though one were looking at them through a prism--dance and chatter and giggle and stalk past, arm-linked or baby-toting or soberly single, until the road was clear. Then the curly-haired young man spun his steering-wheel, describing an easy and rapid turn; and they were sailing down a road straight as a line, with a great white pavilion awaiting them from the top of its smooth-lawned hill. On either side, down the walking-paths, came an endless stream of pedestrians, noisy and gay in their evening emancipation, with bare-legged youngsters breaking loose, racing and chasing across the green as Daisy had seen the calves do in spring. Everybody was "out for a good time." The air was like a tonic; the park like a panorama. Between the capes of shrubbery and across the lawns, and about the thronged pavilion and along the governed paths, the evening breeze floated like a lily-breath, slow and cool and sweet. "Well, here we are," said the driver, parking his taxi at the end of a long row of vehicles in front of the pavilion. "Sorry you come, now, ain't you? Yes, you are--not! Hey, don't knock a hole in the hood of my rig, just because you think you're done with me."