“You can sit down in the Garden, and wait for the next car.”
“No; I would rather go back to the Art Museum, and make a fresh start.”
“To the Art Museum?” she murmured, tenderly.
“Yes. Wouldn't you like to see it again?”
“Again? I should like to pass my whole life in it!”
“Well, walk back with me a little way. There's no hurry about the car.”
“Dan!” she said, in a helpless compliance, and they paced very, very slowly along the Beacon Street path in the Garden. “This is ridiculous.”
“Yes, but it's delightful.”
“Yes, that's what I meant. Do you suppose any one ever—ever—”
“Made love there before?”