"Won't you tell me why?"
"I'll tell you when I meet you again."
"Where?" he asked. And she stopped at the statue of Forster in the Embankment Gardens, and answered:
"Here."
Then she smiled at him so kindly that he asked no more questions, but just said:
"In three hours, then," and they walked on together to Charing Cross.
And after three hours, in which he had time to be at least six different Edwards, he met, by the statue of the estimable Mr. Forster, a lady all in fine white linen, wearing a white hat with a wreath of white roses around it, and long white gloves, and little white shoes. And she had a white lace scarf and a live white rose at her waist.
"I thought I'd better dress the part," she said, a little nervously, "for the sake of the clerks, you know."
"How beautiful you are," he said, becoming yet another kind of Edward at the sight of her, and looking at her as she stood in the afternoon sunshine. "Why didn't you tell me before how beautiful you were?"