“There's no need to walk farther,” said Helen, “for I've seen all that I wish to see. How dear this walk ought to be to us, Arthur!”
“I do not know about you, Helen,” said the young man, “but it has been dear to me indeed. I could not tell you how many times I have walked over it, all alone, since you left; and I used to think about the many times I had walked it with you. You haven't forgotten, Helen, have you?”
“No,” said Helen.
“Not one?”
“Not one.”
The young man was resting his head upon his hand and gazing steadily at the girl.
“Do you remember, Helen—?” He stopped; and she turned with her bright clear eyes and gazed into his.
“Remember what?” she asked.
“Do you remember the last time we took it, Helen?”
She flushed a trifle, and half involuntarily turned her glance away again.