"Yes," I said. "When Father died, the Judge told me that when I had practised three years--long enough to admit me to the New York bar--he'd have a place for me. It was because the three years were nearly up, you know, that I dared last June to ask you--"
"You'd dare anything," she interrupted hastily. "Remember how, when I was a Freshman, you raced a theologue down the church aisle one Sunday night after service, and slammed the door from the outside? 'Miss Winship,' you said--I had sat near the door and was already in the entry--'may I see you home?'--"
"The theologue and the congregation didn't get out till you said yes, I remember! They howled and hammered at the door in most unchristian rage?"
"I had to say yes; why, I had to walk with you even when we quarrelled; it would have made talk for either of us to be seen alone."
She breathed a sigh that ended in rippling laughter.
"You'll have to say yes again."
But at that she changed the subject, and we talked about her work at Barnard until we left the train at Fourteenth Street, where we met the flood tide of Christmas surging into the shops and piling up against gaily decked show windows.
Street hawkers jingled toy harnesses, shouted the prices of bright truck for tree ornaments, and pushed through the crowd, offering holly and mistletoe. Circles formed around men exhibiting mechanical turtles or boxing monkeys. From a furry sledge above a shop door, Santa Claus bowed and gesticulated, shaking the lines above his prancing reindeer. I had never seen such a spectacle.
"What a jam!" cried Helen, her cheeks flooded with colour. "Come, let's hurry!"
Indeed, as we threaded our way in and out among the throng, her beauty made an instant impression.
"There she goes!"
"Where? Where? I don't see her."
"There! The tall one, with the veil--walking with that jay!"
Not only did I hear such comments; I felt them. Yet even here there were many who did not notice; and again I sensed that odd displeasure that people could pass without seeing my darling.
It was a relief to leave the neighbourhood of Sixth Avenue and cross to the open space of Union Square.
The east side of the little park was quiet.
"All right?" I asked.
"All right."
Her breath came quickly as if she had been frightened.
"But see," she said a moment later, "there comes Kitty trundling her bicycle down Madison Avenue. You'd better come in, and be on your best behaviour; yesterday Kitty thought we were quarrelling."
"Sorry I'm wanted only to vindicate--is it your character or mine that would stand clearing? And will you tell me----"