her lap and something of the pride of it in her manner of holding her head, she continued not to move—she only smiled at him. The evening had thickened now; the scattered lamps were red; the Park, all before them, was full of obscure and ambiguous life; there were other couples on other benches, whom it was impossible not to see, yet at whom it was impossible to look. 'But I've walked so much out of my way with you only just to show you that—that'—with this she paused; it was not, after all, so easy to express—'that anything you may have thought is perfectly true.'
'Oh, I've thought a tremendous lot!' her companion laughed. 'Do you mind my smoking?'
'Why should I? You always smoke there.'
'At your place? Oh yes, but here it 's different.'
'No,' she said, as he lighted a cigarette, 'that's just what it isn't. It's quite the same.'
'Well, then, that's because "there" it's so wonderful!'
