“What?”
“Dan.”
“Dan, love! Dan, dearest!”
“Will that car of yours never come? I've promised myself not to leave you till it does, and if I stay here any longer I shall go wild. I can't believe it's happened. Say it again!”
“Say what?”
“That—”
“That I love you? That we're engaged?”
“I don't believe it. I can't.” She looked impatiently up the street. “Oh, there comes your car! Run! Stop it!”
“I don't run to stop cars.” He made a sign, which the conductor obeyed, and the car halted at the further crossing.
She seemed to have forgotten it, and made no movement to dismiss him. “Oh, doesn't it seem too good to be standing here talking in this way, and people think it's about the weather, or society?” She set her head a little on one side, and twirled the open parasol on her shoulder.