“Do you prefer the town?”
“In some ways—not in all.”
“I am glad you have relatives here, and friends. So many young ladies come up from the country who are quite alone.”
“Yes, many.”
Their progress to familiarity could hardly have been slower. Now and then they spoke with a formal coldness which threatened absolute silence. Monica’s brain was so actively at work that she lost consciousness of the people who were moving about them, and at times her companion was scarcely more to her than a voice.
They had walked along the whole front of the park, and were near Chelsea Bridge. Widdowson gazed at the pleasure-boats lying below on the strand, and said diffidently,—
“Would you care to go on the river?”
The proposal was so unexpected that Monica looked up with a startled air. She had not thought of the man as likely to offer any kind of amusement.
“It would be pleasant, I think,” he added. “The tide is still running up. We might go very quietly for a mile or two, and be back as soon as you like.”
“Yes, I should like it.”