anxious that Miss Katherine Park should think well of her. If she saw the sailor in his queer clumsy clothes, talking with her in one of the alcoves (Miss Park often remained late in the evening) Reba feared she would not stand so high in her idol's estimation. No. She must not see her new friend here.
It was May. Warm. She would take him across to the Public Gardens. She would hover outside the front door of the Alliance, and spare him the embarrassment of asking for her from one of the girls on duty, and then they could go in search of an empty settee.
When she saw him coming a block away, she hastened to meet him. He wasn't expecting her; he was looking steadfastly straight ahead, and he passed by her first, unaware.
She had to turn back and run after him with a tremulous little, "Oh, please, here I am."
He turned at that, and stopped short at sight of her.
"I want to talk with you some place," he said.
"Yes, I know. Couldn't we go over to one of the seats in the Gardens?" she asked.
"That would be all right, I suppose," he replied.
It was a warm night. A dark, velvety shadow, cast by a thick-leafed horse-chestnut tree in full bloom fell across half of the long bench that Reba and her companion selected. There were bright electric lights illuminating a gorgeous bed of tall tulips in front of them; there were people passing, now and then, sounds of voices occasionally, the ripple of a distant fountain; and over a bridge arching across a bit of quiet water, through the leafy branches of intervening
