He tried to talk. His monologue grew halting. He asked a question; she returned no answer. He ceased speaking to see if that would pique her and rouse response. She seemed to have divined his intention; he felt that, if he peeped behind her hand, he would find her laughing. Easy of approach, but difficult of capture! If he didn’t take care, she might keep him dawdling and spellbound forever. Ah, but when she began to learn what love really was, not Fluffy’s kind of tepid flirtation, but the kind of love that thinks no sacrifice too costly---- How long would it take him to fire her with earnestness? Traffic was thickening. Automobiles, snorting and tooting their horns, came racing up behind and passed. The road ahead was a cloud of dust, which the sunset tinted to a crimson glory. The laughter of women’s voices was in the air. He had glimpses of their faces peering merrily into men’s. In a flash they were gone; but his imagination followed, listening to the happy tendernesses that were said. How closely these other lovers sat! Sometimes beneath the dust-cloth that lay across their knees, he suspected that hands were being clasped. At others he didn’t need to suspect; it was done proudly and bravely. There were disadvantages in being in love with a young lady who gave remarkable names to her hands. He smiled grimly at the respectable distance that separated him from his praying girl. It so honestly published to the world: “The two people in this taxi are wasting an opportunity--they are not in love.” The waiter, had he had to address her now, would certainly have called her madam. Teddy tried to see the humor of his situation. He wondered whether she was really as indifferent as she pretended--whether she might not be glad if he were to slip his arm about her? But he refrained from making the experiment; he feared lest she should interpret his action flippantly or resent it. When he pictured the kind of happiness they were losing, he felt a little sick at heart. They had come to the great cat’s-cradle of girders that spans the East River. “That’s better. I’m rested. You are good.” She spoke gratefully and sat up. From his corner, making no attempt to narrow the distance, he watched her quietly. “D’you always do that?” “What?” “Pretend to go to sleep when you’re unchaperoned? You don’t need to do it with me. It’s the third time you’ve done it.” She laughed tolerantly. “Oh, you! What old-fashioned notions! I never am chaperoned.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say that in her case it wasn’t necessary. Instead he asked: “Do you do that with Tom? Does he appreciate it?” She threw up her hands in an abandonment to merriment “Tom! He hates it Poor Tom! Haven’t I told you he drizzles?” When no answer was returned, she began to sing provocatively: “If no one ever marries me, And I don’t see why he should. For Nurse says I am not pretty