Hill.

At length he ventured a question. Monica affected no reluctance to
tell him that she was in a house of business, that she had relatives
in London, that only by chance she found herself alone to-day.

'I should be sorry if I never saw you again.'

These words he uttered with embarrassment, his eyes on the ground.
Monica could only keep silence. Half an hour ago she would not have
thought it possible for any remark of this man's seriously to occupy
her mind, yet now she waited for the next sentence in discomposure
which was quite free from resentment.

'We meet in this casual way, and talk, and then say good-bye. Why
mayn't I tell you that you interest me very much, and that I am
afraid to trust only to chance for another meeting? If you were a
man'--he smiled--'I should give you my card, and ask you to my
house. The card I may at all events offer.'

Whilst speaking, he drew out a little case, and laid a visiting-card
on the bench within Monica's reach. Murmuring her 'thank you,' she
took the bit of pasteboard, but did not look at it.

'You are on my side of the river,' he continued, still with
scrupulous modesty of tone. 'May I not hope to see you some day,
when you are walking? All days and times are the same to me; but I
am afraid it is only on Sunday that you are at leisure?'

'Yes, only on a Sunday.'