The gentleman stopped dead. He groaned.
"What--what a fool I've been!"
"You flatter me."
They resumed their promenade. Her hand stole towards his.
"George, are you sorry you said you loved me?"
"Dora, is--is it a joke?"
"No, George, it's not a joke, it's a romance."
"What--what have I done?"
"Made me happy. Isn't that enough to do?"
They stopped again, under a gas-lamp. It was fortunate so few persons were about.