"No, it is stupid here, as a rule, and common. Still every one goes
to the other places in the afternoon and I particularly wanted to be
as naughty as possible, so I came here to-day."
"It doesn't strike me as especially naughty," he remarked.
"But it was very, very naughty before you and I were born, Mr.
Schmidt. The atmosphere still remains, if one possesses a
comprehensive imagination."
"I daresay," said he, "but the imagination doesn't thrive on tea.
Those were the days of burgundy and a lot of other red things."
"One doesn't need to be in shackles, to expatiate on the terrors of
the Bridge of Sighs," she said.
"Are you going to take me up to the park?"
"Yes. Into the Shadows."
"Oh, that's good! I'm sure my imagination will work beautifully when
it isn't subdued by all these blue devils. I--_Que voulez vous?_" The
question was directed rather sharply to a particularly deferential
"blue devil" who stood at his elbow.
"Monsieur Schmidt?"
"Yes. What's this? A letter! 'Pon my soul, how the deuce could any
one--" He got no farther, for Miss Guile's action in pulling down her
veil and the subsequent spasmodic glance over her shoulder betrayed
such an agitated state of mind on her part that his own sensations
were checked at the outset.
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