tween them, causing in Luke a
vague sense of shamefacedness, as if he were guilty toward Louisa, and
in her a feeling of irritation against the whole world around her, for
having allowed this monstrous thing to happen--this vague shadow on
life's pathway, on the life of the only man who mattered.

People passed them as they walked: the curious, the indifferent: men
with bowler hats pulled over frowning brows, boys with caps carelessly
thrust at the back of their heads, girls with numbed fingers thrust in
worn gloves, tip-tilted noses blue with cold, thin, ill-fitting
clothes scarce shielding attenuated shoulders against the keen spring
blast.

Just the humdrum, every-day crowd of London: the fighters, the
workers, toiling against heavy odds of feeble health, insufficient
food, scanty clothing, the poor that no one bothers about, less
interesting than the unemployed labourer, less picturesque, less
noisy, they passed and had no time to heed the elegantly clad figure
wrapped in costly furs, or the young man in perfectly tailored coat,
who was even now preparing himself for a fight with destiny, beside
which the daily struggle for halfpence would be but a mere skirmish.

Instinctively they knew--these two--the society girl and the
easy-going wealthy man--that it was reality with which they would have
to deal. That instinct comes with the breath of fate: a warning that
her decrees are serious, not to be lightly set aside, but pondered
over; that her materialized breath would not be a phantom or a thing
to be derided.

Truth or imposture? Which?

Neither the man nor the girl knew as yet, but reality--whatever else
it was.

They walked on for awhile in silence. Another instinct--the
conventional one--had warned them that their stay in the park had been
unduly prolonged: there were social duties to attend to, calls to
make, luncheon with Lord Radclyffe at Grosvenor Square.

So they both by tacit consent turned their steps back toward the town.

A man passed them from behind, walking quicker than they did. As he
passed, he looked at them both intently, as if desirous of arresting
their attention. Of course he succeeded, for his look was almost
compelling. Louisa was the first to turn toward him, then Luke did
likewise: and the passer-by raised his hat respectfully with a slight
inclination of head and shoulders that suggested foreign upbringing.

Once more convention stepped in and Luke mechanically returned the
sal