she wondered vaguely how she could have been lonely in
all the music and the wonder of New York's marvelous
life. The windows of the stores were already crowded
with Christmas cheer, and busy thousands passed through
their doors. Each man or woman was a swift messenger
of love. Somewhere in the shadows of the city's
labyrinth a human heart would beat with quickened joy
for every step that pressed about these crowded
counters. Love had given new eyes to see, new ears to
hear and a new heart to feel the joys and sorrows of
life.

She hadn't given her consent yet. She was
still asking her silly heart to be sure of herself.
Of her lover, the depth and tenderness, the strength
and madness of his love, there could be no doubt. Each
day he had given new tokens.

For Saturday afternoon she had told him not to
bring the car.

When they reached Fifth Avenue, across the Square,
he stopped abruptly and faced her with a curious,
uneasy look:

"Say, tell me why you wanted to walk?"

"I had a good reason," she said evasively.

"Yes, but why? It's a sin to lay that car up a day