They went along the road, skirting the water, past the battery emplacements and disappearing guns, over a low hill toward the Fort. From this side the Bay opened to them, and beyond lay line on line of mountains, growing hazier in the distance, to the north and east. They had regained their spirits with this exercise, and talked again freely as boy and girl. He noticed with amusement and delight how she edged, unconsciously, nearer and nearer him. If he crossed the road, she came to him, without perceiving the regularity of it, as the armature comes to the magnet. She nearly forced him into the wall, or off the walk, in her unthinking pursuit of him, so strongly he attracted her. She blushed furiously when he spoke of it—it was so droll that he could not help mentioning it—but that comment did not cure her. She was over by his side, rubbing elbows as unaffectedly the next instant. How could she help it, when he kept his eyes on her as he did? she said. So, along the shore by the Life Saving Station, up to the parade ground and the barracks, then by a climb up the steep, narrow, tree-grown path to the corner gate of the reservation they sported. That was the first of a series of outings they had together that week. The Golden Gate Park, Sutro’s forest and the beach were each explored in turn, and while still within the limits of the city they tasted of country, mountain and shore, and let the days fly by. Clytie brought the luncheon, and they ate it, picnic fashion, under the blue sky. She kept strict account of his finances, and as his small capital dwindled they came back to his plans for the future. He met her, one day, with news. "I think I shall have to go to work, after all," he said. "I’ve got a position." She congratulated him, not without a shade of sorrow that their holidays were to end. "It’s too much like my old work to be very proud of, but it’s a step up. It’s founded on vanity, but this time I shall exploit my own instead of others’. I’m going on the stage. I’ve found my name is worth something." She was a little disappointed and he was not surprised. "Oh, I’ll soon become unbearable, I suppose. Most of the time I don’t spend in front of the make-up glass looking at myself, I’ll spend being looked at, trying to propitiate an audience. It’s a school of egoism. But at least my pose will be honest. I saw the stage manager of the _Alcazar_, and I’m going to begin to rehearse next Monday." He spoke banteringly, but she felt the truth of his jests. Still, it would provide for the present. It would make him more than ever notorious—but it was better than idleness. The next day at ten o’clock she appeared at the studio to spend the day with him. It was Wednesday, and they were anxious to make the most of what time remained.